


adored

by minyardly



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Angst with a Happy Ending, Date Rape Drug/Roofies, Depression, Drugs, F/F, F/M, Heavy Drinking, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Multi, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, The Trojans are Good People
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2018-01-17
Packaged: 2018-10-13 21:23:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 42,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10522140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minyardly/pseuds/minyardly
Summary: Jean is learning what it means to not only survive, but to live. Slowly.





	1. dawn

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first ever fic, so go a lil easy on me if that's okay. if you do, for some unexplainable reason, end up liking this, please leave a kudos! thank you v much

“Do you think of it often?”

There’s a noise that sort of sounds like clicking, and for a moment he thinks it might be a clock. He hopes it’s about to tell him that he’s out of time, but then the noise disappears. He continues to stare out the window, thinking of the question unintentionally. He never really did like even the thought of thinking of the past. Or perhaps he never liked thinking at all. He never had to. He didn’t want to. It leaves him struggling to focus, and a deep feeling of chaos and violence begins to resonate in his chest. He turns to look at Bee, and he wonders why she is so hellbent on getting things out of him. Perhaps Renee put her up to it, he thinks. Trying to help. In some alternate universe, maybe he would appreciate it. But in the one he lived in, he only felt irritation and annoyance. His feelings were harsh even to him, and he looks away once more. 

“You don’t have to answer, but if you want to…” she trails off, and then she folds her her hands together, a picture of perfect poise. “What about painting? Have you picked it up again, like I suggested the last time we visited?”

Visited, she says. He smiles, but it’s sardonic and painful. He nods, though, because he has. He always wanted to paint again, and with her pointing him in the right direction, he followed the line. He was always good at following orders, he realizes. He looks to his hands and eyes how oddly pale they are. He wants to reach for the sun, to feel the warmth on his neck, to relax in the heat. He had been cold for so long that it made him feel dead. Maybe he has been dead this whole time. How ironic, since he has been trying to survive his entire life. He closes his eyes at the thought of the beach, but then the pain resonates and he chases his nostalgia away, like he always does, beating it with his dangerous mental bat. He looks to her, and she’s smiling to him.

“Are you enjoying it? Making art?”

He wants to just nod, but there is also the need of speaking. He wants to vocally voice his interests just once, to Bee, who will never tell a soul of his ability to communicate. He doesn’t necessarily think of it as weakness, but he does believe it is out of character for him. He takes in a deep breath, gathering his various thoughts.

“Everything I paint is painful,” he tells her. It’s true. He paints his life, unintentionally and subtly, but his life is and has always been painful. “It’s beautiful, however. Makes for good art, or so I’m told.” He doesn't think of his life as a beautiful story, but perhaps the brushes and the colors make it a little more… comforting. He looks to her. “I have been told, however, to work on something brighter. Any suggestions?”

He laughs, but it’s not funny. She doesn’t frown, but he can see it behind her eyes- the disconnection. She doesn’t understand, but she wants desperately to help. He does think that it’s admirable, her waiting on people like him and the foxes, who at times seem even more screwed up than he does. He ticks his head, and then realizes that maybe the disconnection he sees in her eyes is only a mirroring of his own. He lets out a sigh.

“Paint the beach, Jean,” she whispers. “Do you still dream of it?”

“How did you,” he abruptly stops and then smiles, gives a small nod. “Renee.”

“She worries after you, I think,” Bee leans back, her hands still crossed, and then she nods to him. “Well?”

“The beaches,” he stops, and then thinks. “They used to be a happy memory, when I deluded myself, but they aren't anymore. I still dream of them because I think my mind is tricking me. That’s all I want to say about it.”

She nods. She brings her bottom lip back into her mouth, but she doesn’t seem to be chewing it. She’s pondering, he realizes, but he knows exactly what she wants to say. He thinks that maybe he’ll bring it up for her, but he doesn’t want to be wrong and have to make it seem like he cares about something he’s trying not to. She can decide what’s important. He doesn’t want to decide. He hears her ruffle in her notes.

“You’ve been cleared by the physical therapist, I see. Are you excited to play again? You’re leaving soon,” she says after what felt like hours of thought. He thinks of the sport he was born to play and tries to feel like he isn’t suffocating. 

“California is very sunny, or so I’ve been told many times in the past few days,” he tells her.

“That doesn’t really answer the question,” she smiles.

“I’m looking forward to the opportunity to play.”

She rests her chin in one of her hands. “You don’t sound too enthusiastic to play the sport you love.”

“Tell me the truth,” his eyes chase towards the window. “Do I ever sound enthusiastic about anything?”

He hears her chuckle and feels a little accomplished, but it is quickly stomped out when he realizes he is leaving very soon. Two days and he will be officially attending USC. He takes in a breath. He wonders how the hell he ended up in this place, talking to a therapist, and being in the process of packing up to be a backliner for the Trojans. He brings his thumbnail to his mouth unexpectedly and then stares at Bee. He thinks about her words. The sport you love. Does Jean even know what it is to feel that word? He isn’t sure. He thinks back to the somewhat blurry mental picture he has of his parents, and his newborn baby sister, but he is left somewhat unimpressed. Love. Love wasn’t something he was friendly with, and he doubted he ever would be.

She’s silent the whole time he spends thinking. He smirks.

“That doesn’t really answer the question.”

She smiles again, and then ducks her head. “You have a great future ahead of you, Jean, and it’s not being determined because of your past. That has to be freeing, right?”

“Perhaps,” he whispers. Perhaps not.

 

He watches Neil, Andrew and Kevin during practice- or, should he be honest, he sees Kevin and Neil practice while Andrew sits in the stands, further away from him. Jean knows that he can see him though, and he admires Andrew for his survival skills and his obvious distrust of others. In the past, he remembered thinking about how Andrew was blasphemous with his terrific skill but no thirst to play. Now- well, he’s acquainted with the goalkeeper and he really cannot be surprised or shocked by his blatant disinterest. It suits him, somehow, to not want to conform to the thing that everybody else is. Sometimes, however, Jean thinks it’s all a ploy.

“Moreau!” Neil yells. Jean feels his eyes jump from whatever distance he was staring at to Neil, who is standing in the middle of the court, in a comfortable stance. They must have stopped playing while Jean was alone in his mind. Jean only lets Neil know he is paying attention by making eye contact and waits for him to continue with that alone. He, even now, isn’t comfortable with his own voice. Neil seems to recognize this. “What time does your plane take off?”

He hates that he has been forced to open his mouth, but then Kevin interrupts. “I’m dropping him off at the airport at eleven.”

Kevin speaking for him is nothing new, but now it just grates him. Kevin isn’t allowed to speak for him anymore, but Jean will allow this. Jean, while still struggling with the transition into a normal kind of life, knows now that a few things are his. His voice, for one, which he has decided that he doesn’t like to use very much. His hands. He’s allowed to fight back now, if he so desires. Those are the only two things on a list that should be longer. Renee told him so. However, she also recommended not hitting Kevin. He wasn’t going to anyways. In a very distant past that was simultaneously incredibly recent, he remembers wanting to beat every little thing that made Kevin tick out of him. That was when he wasn’t just Jean though- he was Jean, he was Riko, he was Kevin, even- he was every single Raven under the Evermore roof, and maybe even a few before that. 

“It’s 9:30. Are you packed, Jean?” Neil asks him, intentional with his head turn and the personalization of the question. He wonders if Neil picked up how it had irritated him, but that seems very unlikely. For all of Neil’s skills, he was very oblivious to the feelings of those around him, but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Jean had never learned to appreciate the complexity of feelings. 

“Yes,” Jean answers. “Allison packed for me because she feels I am inadequate, I suppose.”

“No,” Neil smiles, just a little, like it is only for him, and not Jean. “She packed for you because she put some new clothes in your things and is hoping you won’t be as perceptive as you are. Don’t worry, she won’t stray far from what you have.”

Jean is worried, however. He doesn’t want that brat with a thick wallet to decide the kind of person he is, but, he thinks, he’s had his identity stripped too many times to care as much as he would like to, at this point. He nods once, though, his face clear of any emotion. If they are similar to the clothes he already has- that’s not much to go on. Everything at Evermore was black. 

“We better get cleaned up, then,” Kevin said, motioning towards the shower. Surprisingly, Andrew doesn’t follow them. Instead, he sits multiple rows above Jean. Jean turns his head slightly to see if Andrew is still there- and he is. His knife is out, twisting in his hand. He almost jumps when the tiny blonde suddenly moves, but it isn’t bad. Andrew makes his way down the row, and then finds himself closer to Jean. Jean can see him now, to his side, but they are not close enough to one another to touch. Andrew is still brandishing his knife, and, oddly, Jean is more relaxed around it than he thought he would be. Is this was comfort for him is? Sharp, dangerous things?  
“Are you going to call if you end up in a rut?” Andrew asks. There is nothing that hints towards concern. Jean hadn’t expected any less. He even gives a very sour chuckle.

“Not you.”

“Obviously,” Andrew sighs, annoyed, irritated, disconnected. “Are you going to call if you end up in a rut?”

Yes, Jean thinks. Renee. Kevin. Neil, even. He would call many of the foxes if he found himself in trouble. They understand trouble. It has become something of their speciality. However, he knows what Andrew is asking, and he respects it. He knows that the foxes don’t need anymore wars, and Jean is nothing but a battle. He has too many cold memories for the start of the revamped team. He lets a deep sigh escape out of his nose and then meets Andrew by the eyes.

“You won’t hear from me.”

Andrew nods, and then without any hesitance, he puts the knife down in between them. “You probably feel like you need this more than I do.”

Jean, carefully, reaches over to it and admires it for a moment. He feels as though he can see Riko in the weapon. “The Trojans are like poupées. No reason to be worried. Unless you think I should be. I have learned from my short time that while you are irrational in some things, your judgment is hardly ever wrong. Did you come down here to offer me your knife and advice, or just the knife?”

Andrew doesn’t give any indication that he thought what he heard was funny.

“You know my advice.”

Jean does, actually. Even if they are poupées, you don’t trust them until they have earned that trust. Jean knew that he had gone on living far too long to just give it all up with the Trojans. He has walls, and nobody will be beating them down for as long as he is able to protect them from outsiders. He nods to Andrew, appreciative. He slips the knife into his pants, and then he hears Kevin and Neil leaving the locker room. Andrew had already been standing and heading towards the boys before Jean was able to rise.

While orange is ugly and he is no fox, Jean admires the gym for just a moment before getting up from the stands and following after the others.

 

“You know you can call if you need to. And, of course, you probably know this, but Jeremy isn’t like us or the others. He’s a good person. He doesn’t know a lot about violence or bad things, from what I understand, but he is very empathetic, and if you need help with anything go to him, too. Renee, also, told me to remind you that she wants texts every night to update how everything is going-”

“If you do not stop talking,” Jean interrupts, “I will bash your head with my own. I forgot how much you ramble when you get nervous.”

Kevin opens and closes his mouth a few times. “I forgot I did that, too.”

Jean doesn’t have words for that, but instead, he waits for Kevin to wish him goodbye. He is expecting a handshake, something collected, calm, but Kevin, slowly, wraps his arms around Jean. Jean doesn’t reciprocate for a moment, but then he is hit with the terrible, terrible realization that Kevin is the only person in the world who knows who he is now that Riko is dead. He is the only one who looks and sees. He, with reluctance and hesitance, hugs the other boy back. He will allow this short bout of weakness before he is locked away from the opportunities. 

“I’m going to,” Kevin starts, but they both know he doesn’t know how to finish. Neither one of them have ever been soft. They are both jagged and messy, and there is little reason for that to change. Jean backs away, finally, and then keeps his hands on the other boy, examining him.

“Are you drunk?”

“I couldn’t do this without just a little bit to drink,” he answers honestly, and then he looks Jean dead in the eyes. “This isn’t like the last time.”

Far away in Jeans’ mind, someone is screaming. He knows that it is the past. He remembers the horrors of Kevin leaving- not just the feeling of abandonment and the all-encompassing loneliness that he began to drown in, but also Riko’s never-ending rage, that continued to beat him senseless in the hopes that something would make sense eventually. Jean took that beating, and then another, and another, because really there was nothing to do about the situation. He nods to Kevin, though he thinks that once upon a time, he wanted to string Kevin up like a pirate. Now, though, he is content with the balance of understanding and shambles. Kevin and him would never be okay, but they were. They were. They were…

Kevin clears his throat. “Frères.”

Jean is happy that Kevin knows his native language, and he nods to him. 

“Oui.”

“I’ll see you again soon, I hope.”

“Oui,” Jean says again, this time in a raspy whisper.

Kevin, frantically, turns away and makes his way out of the airport. Jean doesn’t want to watch him disappear from eyesight, and instead, turns to the terminal. He heads for the opening and refuses to think about everything that has lead him to the moment he is living in. Most people are afraid of the future, and while Jean refuses to even focus on that probability, he instead chooses to be afraid of his present. 

He takes his seat and leans back. He has a window seat and nobody sits next to him. Alone, for the first time in what feels like his entire life. Alone. Alone. Is it alway this suffocating, he wonders. 

 

Jean isn’t expecting for someone to be there at the airport to pick him up, considering that there was still a few more weeks or so until everybody began to integrate back to the school or the area, but, for some unknown reason, he is not shocked to find that he does, in fact, have company. USC exy players were known for the pep in their step and their friendly attitudes. Jean isn’t expecting it to be authentic, for some reason.

The boy is deeply colored; Jean didn’t know if it was just natural from birth or from the sun that was already beating down on them. Even inside the building, Jean tears his eyes away from the boy to look up out the windows to see the burning orb. He feels the heat. He’s wearing a long sleeve outfit that he greatly detests, but he knows he couldn’t stomach it if anybody saw his scars just yet. He still is sporting the bruising from Rikos’ anger over his father, but even that has dulled slightly. He isn’t prepared to show off the darker ones yet, and it is unlikely he ever would get there. He looks back to the boy. His hair is the messiest head of hair in the world, with some random curls. It’s mostly just a bunch of brown hairs going wherever they felt they needed to go. He is a tall boy, but not as tall as Jean. He is giving Jean a small smile.

Jean approaches him. He knows who he is. He would have to be stupid to not recognize Jeremy Knox. It is not as if he had never been in his presence before anyways. He had seem him play and had even played against him. They have talked on the phone exactly once. Jeremy sticks his hand out, and Jean takes it, shaking it once before dropping it like ice that is far too cold.

“Hello, Jean,” Jeremy smiles.

Jean wonders if Jeremy knows the extent of his woes. Kevin probably blabbed just a little, and Jean didn’t know if he blamed him or not. Kevin had always admired Jeremy Knox and his team, even when he was under Riko. Riko had never appreciated the idolization of the “average exy player” but he didn’t fight with Kevin on that terrain as much as he did with other things. Jean nods to Jeremy, and then looks over the boys shoulder in avoidance. He doesn’t like eye contact. 

“I wasn’t expecting you,” Jean tells him, still refusing to look him in the eyes. His voice isn’t happy, it isn’t surprised. In fact, if he could really be introspective, he would know how unhappy it sounded.

“Kevin was worried about you finding your way to USC from the airport. Besides, I’ve been on campus for a week, preparing everything for your arrival.”

Jean wants to ask a million questions. Why not go home to your family? He knew that while Jeremy had been born and raised in California, it was not in the surrounding area. He ticks his head, but resigns himself to silence. Instead of speaking, he jerks his head, and hopes Jeremy understands.

“Oh, yes,” Jeremy says, turning away from him. “Baggage claim. How much do you have?”

“Two bags,” and then he gestures to his carryon. “And this.”

One of his bags isn’t even clothes. It’s his art supplies. Allison didn’t want them all mixed together, she thought it was stupid and inefficient, so she bought a second bag. Jean didn’t put up a fight. Jeremy nods, content with this. His carryon has sports magazines on the college exy teams. Some about the foxes, some about the Trojans, and even the Ravens. He is still in most of the older magazines as a Raven, but in the new one he had bought, it had the announcement in it.

“… I spoke to Jean earlier this week. He’s definitely done for the year, but he’ll be back in the fall. He just won’t be back in black.”

Jeremy was a very obvious force that Jean was prepared to work with. He was prepared to be flexible, even if the word was foreign, in order to play exy with a competent team. Jeremy was respected in the game, and Jean knew that. However, he knew that USC would have to get even better than before to reckon with the storm that was the foxes. And just because Riko was dead didn’t mean the Ravens weren’t still one of the best teams in exy. But. Riko was dead.

“How is the weather?” Jean asks, stepping outside. He doesn't want to think of Riko. He likes the heat. “I mean,” he corrects himself, no show of anxiety, just the need for clarity, “is this the normal atmosphere?”

Jeremy smiles at him again. “Yeah, it’s usually always this sunny and warm. Some days it is cooler because of the wind, but today feels pretty slack. Are you okay with it?”

Jean chooses not to respond, and instead looks around at the people. None of them stand out to him. He takes in a deep breath. “I don’t remember the last time I was here.”

“Last year,” Jeremy reminds him. “When we played.”

Riko was alive. Jean nods. “I forget the game sometimes.”

Jeremy doesn’t say anything to that, or ask for an explanation on what he means, and Jean is thankful. There’s nothing particularly ugly about what he said. It is merely truth. With the little sleep he gets, also with the treatment of Riko during his time last year, he barely remembers most things. Unlike Andrew, his memory gets hazy. He follows Jeremy to his car and tries to think about how this moment is just another moment. He is continuously moving, and he isn’t sure if he is happy about it or not.


	2. being

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He watches Jeremy become surprised, and then he’s smiling at Jean. Jean may have wanted respect, but he didn’t think this was warranted. He didn’t want the boy to smile at him, because it does strange things to his chest. Jean looks away from it, hoping that the constriction in his body will lessen, but instead it worsens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, be nice to me

Jean is not completely acclimated with the idea of Jeremy Knox as his roommate. 

They had arrived on campus just a few days before when Jeremy told him that his previous roommate had graduated and that Jean would be moving in with him. He wondered the second he heard the sentence if Jeremy knew what he was getting himself into. Now, he lays in his bed and stares at the ceiling. Jeremy has been telling him since his arrival that they would get around to playing exy, but for now, they just needed to get settled. Jean was starving for the court, and he wanted so very badly to see just how well he could handle it with all of his pains. 

He sniffs once. He knows that Jeremy is cooking breakfast for the two of them, and he is left at a loss. He doesn’t know how he feels about the “eager-to-please” Jeremy Knox. The boy had helped him unpack, and had shown him around the campus, as well as making breakfast, lunch and dinner for Jean. Jean never ate much; he was never really hungry. But, he did nibble just a bit to show that he was appreciative. He had some manners, though they were perhaps very scarce.

After some mental prodding, he gets up from his bed and makes his way to the kitchen. His hair feels like a mess and he feels even more tired than when he went to sleep. He didn’t even remember falling asleep, but he knew that he would have had to in order to feel this heavy weight. He watches the captain prepare the standard breakfast- eggs, bacon and biscuits. Jean knows for a fact that there is orange juice and milk in the fridge for him to grab to drink, but instead, he decides to stare Jeremy down with just a slight irritation.

Why the boy feels the need to dance while he cooks, Jean doesn’t know, but he wishes he could find out so he could rip the wires from the wall. He is not used to blatant happiness. Even Nicky was never a normal happy- he was just horny all the time. He coughs to alert Jeremy of his presence, and the other boy turns his head slightly, but continues dancing just slightly. 

Jean wonders what is playing. He knows that it is a well known song, because in the few days that he has been exposed to the world, he has heard it more than ten times. He takes in a deep breath and then takes a seat at the bar of the kitchen.

“Good morning,” Jeremy tells him, smiling just a bit as he puts the plate down in front of him. Eggs, bacon and biscuits. Jeremy even pours Jean his preferred beverage- orange juice. 

Jean is irritable. He wants to say it’s because Jeremy Knox is an irritating person, but the real reason is that he wants to play exy more than he wants to breathe. He pours the OJ down the sink while staring Jeremy dead in the eyes. He had started to do that with him- little flares of rebellion. Jeremy would offer him something, or ask him a question, and Jean would turn the opposite direction. Jeremy would give him something he learned that Jean liked, and Jean would either refuse to touch it, simply stare at it or stare at Jeremy. 

In that moment, Jeremy bites his bottom lip while he tries very hard to look like he is unbothered. Jean, after the OJ is successfully drained and gone, grabs the milk carton and pours himself some milk. Jeremy cuts his eyes away, but Jean can tell how annoyed the boy is. 

Jean wants very much to see Jeremy be angry. Maybe a part of him misses Riko, or maybe a part of him doesn’t know who he is without chaos, but it doesn’t matter. He can hear Kevin, far away, banging his head on the table with his annoyance. He takes a drink of the milk anyways, and smirks where Jeremy cannot see.

“You as well.”

He takes a bite of the eggs. They are perfect, as usual. He has learned that- Jeremy is a perfectionist, but not in a way that seems healthy. He tries hard to achieve success, but sometimes Jean wonders if it’s because he personally wants to be successful or if he wants people to be proud of him. Jeremy has the need to please everybody he is around; it is more than likely why he agreed with Kevin and let Jean be a Trojan in the first place. He probably saw Jean as a challenge, and wants to accomplish said challenge. 

Jean opens his mouth to thank Jeremy for the food, but he is interrupted by his own ringing phone. He is surprised; he hadn’t gotten a call from anyone since he arrived. The only one who would have called would have been Renee, but she got texts every night to check in. Jean eyes the caller ID and then feels a pinch of annoyance. Kevin had little reason to be calling him, unless it was important. He looks at Jeremy and sees that the boy is looking at him, obviously in interest. He’s noticed that Jean doesn’t get calls, then.

“What do you want?” Jean answers in french. Jeremy ticks his jaw, but turns away before it is obvious that he is annoyed. Jean feels the accomplishment flourish in his chest.

“I forgot to call and see if things are okay,” Kevin says, and he sounds both curious and guilty at the same time. There is something very nervous in his voice however, that makes Jean stop and think.

“Okay.”

“So,” Kevin continues, careful. “Are things okay?”

“Yes,” Jean answers. Jeremy turns to look at him, and Jean takes the moment to appreciate the very irritated ridden face he wears because of Jeans native tongue. So what if it’s none of his concern? Jean even smiles at him a tiny bit, but he knows it is everything but nice.

“You don’t seem very talkative,” Kevin responds, his voice tinged with annoyance and sarcasm. “Tell me something so I don’t feel stupid for calling.”

“You are always stupid.”

Kevin was silent on the other side of the line for a moment. Jean feels compelled to sigh.

“Jeremy made breakfast. I am eating.”

Jeremy perks at his name. Jean continues to eat his food, his eyes darting downward.

“Is that Kevin?” Jeremy asks.

“Was that Jeremy’s voice?” Kevin asks.

“If you wanted to talk to capitaine de soleil then you could have called him,” Jean says. He wants Jeremy to understand him now, so he speaks as much english as he sees fit. Jeremy does seem pleased by this, and even smiles something real at Jean.

“I don’t want- I called for you. But tell him I said hello, to be polite. Are you being polite?”

Kevin says it with what sounds like amusement. Jean, polite? Never intentionally. He rolls his eyes at Kevin, and then smiles just a tiny bit. 

“Why are you calling, Kevin?” he says instead. He knows that Kevin didn’t call to chat.

There is silence over the line for a moment, and then there is a large sniff. Jean stops and stills, waiting for whatever tornado is about to thrown into his path. He knew that things were too calm for his liking, but he had deluded himself into thinking it was all over.

“Riko, he, he had a will.” Jean sets down his fork and gets up. He leaves Jeremy in the dust as he climbs onto the terrace. It is a rickety thing, and he lets his legs dangle over the two stories. He clears his throat.

“I am in a place I can talk about such things.”

“Jean, he didn’t leave anything for you.”

Jean doesn’t know why but he is left with a cold, dead-like feeling in his chest suddenly. He takes in a deep breath but does not release it. Nothing at all. Jean knows, he knows, that Riko was never going to take him seriously enough to leave something for him, but still, there is an odd feeling of disappointment in his very arteries. He continuously let him down, and while Riko may have been some kind of monster, or had extreme psychopathic tendencies that were usually released on him, he still feels like something crucial is missing. Nothing. Jean, he didn’t leave anything for you. Of course he didn’t, Jean. You were one of his things. 

Why are you calling, Kevin?

“What did he leave you?” Jean manages.

“Jean, why did he have a will? He was so-”

“You should know better than anybody that life is not guaranteed.”

Kevin falters. 

“What did he leave you?”

“His collection,” Kevin whispers.

His collection. Jean shutters. Riko has left Kevin his knives. He doesn’t say it, but he wonders if Riko thought that were he to die, Kevin would continue his practice in making the Ravens live through hell. Did Riko expect Kevin to carry that burden? 

“What will you do with them?”

“Sell them?”

“No,” Jean bites out too fast. No. Those collection pieces were responsible for… for him. He died and was reborn with those knives. Those knives were responsible for… for nearly ever scar on his body. They created him as much as his parents did. Jean wonders if Kevin understands, and the silence that echoes back at him sounds understanding. “Give them to Minyard.”

“He doesn’t want them,” Kevin says.

“Give them,” Jean struggles. “Bury them.”

“Where?” Kevin asks, his voice hysterical.

“I’m planning on visiting you,” Jean says. “Save them until we can figure out what to do with. With them.”

Kevin is silent on the other side.

“Are you okay?” Kevin eventually asks.

Jean, he didn't leave anything for you.

No.

“Yes.”

He lets out a very unsteady breath of air, and then turns his head slightly. He can see Jeremy from the kitchen, looking out at the terrace periodically. It doesn’t surprise him that his captain is continuously studying him for any signs of distress. Jean closes his phone. He supposes that the conversation is done and dealt with, and there isn’t much to do about it. He doesn’t want to talk about it anymore anyways. He dislikes talking about Riko, mostly because it’s too- it makes it real. Riko dying.

He gets up and enters Jeremys’ apartment with a very concentrated thought pulsing on his mind. Jeremy seems alert when he walks in, and even a little intimidated by Jeans staring. Jean knows he is an intimidating person to look at, with the fainted scars, and the height. His build was a tool he used to craft his persona.

“I want to play exy,” Jean tells him. He knows it sounds aggressive; he knows he sounds like he is on an edge. Because he is, he reminds himself. He may not know himself intensively yet, but he knows that he needs to exert his aggressiveness. He wants terribly to scream, tear, puke it all out. He wants Jeremy to take him seriously. He wants to see the court. 

“Okay,” Jeremy says moments later. He is looking at Jean with something in his eyes that seems very far away. “Okay. Lets get dressed.”

Jean turns and hurries.

 

“I know you’re used to the Raven stadium, with all of its glory, but the Trojans have a pretty nice set up too. I hope you enjoy playing on it as much as I do. I do want to say, also, that we need to go a little slow just in case you’re still suffering from any injuries or some of your stitches-”

“I,” Jean turns around quickly, putting his hands up to calm himself. Jeremy comes to an abrupt stop in his words. “I- can play, Knox.”

Jeremy nods to him, careful. “I know you can, man.”

“I’m not hurt bad,” Jean lies.

The other boy smiles with a curious fixation on the ceiling. Jean can’t tell if he is annoyed or impressed. Riko was always a little bit of both- well, he was usually annoyed, impressed and wrathful. He was always fueled by an unstoppable force of rage and anger, one that Jean seemed to never be able to hide from.

On the court, Jean lifts up his exy stick, and he appreciates it for just a moment, before something rings in his mind. Riko screaming on the court when Minyard slammed his racquet against his hand. Even if Riko could have recovered from that before his death, he never would have been able to play the sport he lived for. He played exy for more than just the fame- in fact, while that was a crucial part of his goal, it wasn’t the why. Riko may have played for the appreciation and the sweat, but it was also for Kengo. The fact that Riko was never acknowledged by his father put a chill down Jeans spine from the memories of his reaction to that simple fact.

“Jean?”

His eyes snapped up to Jeremy, and he just stares.

“Did you hear me? I asked if you were ready?”

Jean nods. He straightens himself, and he plays.

 

Jean pushes his way into the locker room to shower. He felt tired and worn. Jeremy had forced him to stop- “No more, Jean, no more- you’re too weak to be pushing it this hard.” Too weak was the story of Jeans life, it seemed, and he was so bored of reading the repetitive pages of weakness and disappointment. When he is secluded, he looks down to himself, his shirt on the floor and he takes in too many breaths to handle.

He is so bruised. He is, sort of, healed from his time with Riko, but it doesn’t look good. He wonders if some of the purple and the blue were going to be there for the rest of his life. He has patches of skin that is still slightly red from scabbing; he has scars that rip down his chest from the knives. He has, even, burns- not from fires, no. Electricity. Riko got creative with his punishments at times, and it left him in horrendous pain that for some, what can only be twisted, reason, he misses more than he ever thought he would.

He doesn’t want to. He just cannot help but miss the way Riko used to dig his fingernails into his bleeding wounds. It was normal. The pain. He doesn’t remember a day without it, suddenly. Even before, back- back in France. He is almost certain that there was pain during those haunted days, too. He paints it, doesn’t he?

“Jean, do you want to go out for something to eat instead of going back home?”

He tries not to be startled by his captains voice. He takes in a deep breath. “I don’t want to go to the apartment.” He isn’t hungry, either, but he is willing to sit in a booth with Jeremy while he eats. He is still full from breakfast, even though it was hours before. 

“Okay, I know this diner just a few blocks away from campus, they have really good burgers, if you like burgers.”

“Whatever.”

Jean stumbles out, dressed and Jeremy backs up suddenly. Jean examines him. He is fully clothes and well dressed. Just moments before the boy had been sweaty and messy with the grief of the game. His hair was wet from his shower. Jean had a fascination with it for a moment, and he watches as the dampness from his mess of hair touches his cheek. The small drops even race down his cheek.

Jean shakes his head.

“Are you okay?” Jeremy asks, smiling tightly.

“Si quelqu'un me le demande encore, je vais les faire vivre pour le regretter.”

“I don’t-” Jeremy blanches. Jean knows he, once again, was terrible with his manners and that Kevin would undoubtedly shove him to stop him from speaking to his idol like that.

“I don’t want to be asked that question anymore,” Jean says, his voice steely, and his eyes as cold as ice. “Do you understand?”

Jeremy, at first, nods once, but then he begins shaking his head. “No, no, that’s ridiculous. You know, Jean, we have been living together in the same apartment for the past week and a half, and I don’t know anything about you. I’ve let you on my team, and I need to learn how to trust you, but you are way too closed off for me to even try to do that. I will continue to ask after you because you are a part of my team, and I want to help you.”

“Knox,” Jean growls. “I do not, and I will never need, your help. You do not know who I am. I may be a part of your team, but I am no Trojan.”

“Tough,” Jeremy whispers, and then he heads for the door. “Because, Jean, that is exactly what you are now. A Trojan. On my team. I am your captain.”

Jean for a moment, wonders if he should even follow after Jeremy at all. He ends up doing so, shaking his head with disappointment as he does. He has always been a dog, following after his masters. Jeremy hasn’t turned around to see if Jean is following, and Jean knows it’s being he knows Jean will. He doesn’t want to be impressed with Jeremy finally standing up to him, but he is. He never expected Jeremy to be able to gather the courage to push him, after so many days with each other. He climbs into the car, and Jeremy drives him to the burger joint he talked about only a few minutes before.

 

Jeremy is eating a burger. He isn’t talking, or bothering Jean. Every so often, Jeremy will set the burger down and then drink his water. Jean is staring out the window, admiring the sun in the sky. Now that he is able to see it more than he used to, he takes advantage of it. He takes in a small breath, and then releases it slowly.

“What was your phone call about earlier?”

So now Jeremy decides to bother him. Jean doesn’t answer.

“Okay,” Jeremy says after a few moments. “By the way, Laila and Alvarez are coming in at the end of this week. I’m to help them settle into their apartment. Will you help?”

Jean turns to look at Jeremy, and though Jeremy is looking at him, he doesn’t look like he’s expecting the answer yes. Jean doesn’t want Jeremy to think that he isn’t flexible or willing- Jeremy may be many things in Jean’s eyes, but he is still his captain. He wants- no, he deserves some sort of respect. Riko may have never told him so, but he knows he is good at exy. 

“Yes.”

He watches Jeremy become surprised, and then he’s smiling at Jean. Jean may have wanted respect, but he didn’t think this was warranted. He didn’t want the boy to smile at him, because it does strange things to his chest. Jean looks away from it, hoping that the constriction in his body will lessen, but instead it worsens.

“Thank you, Jean.”

 

Jean is once again at the airport, and while Jeremy tells him he can wait at the car, he refuses. It has been two days since the diner, and Jean hasn’t spoken since. Jeremy and him went to the stadium twice, but even when Jeremy tried to communicate with him, Jean refused. Renee called him, but he declined and texted her that he couldn’t talk. He doesn’t know why but he likes the silence that surrounds him when he doesn’t talk. Especially since Jeremy seems okay with his silence. Not that he prefers it, because sometimes he does stare at Jean, trying to will him to speak. No, he wishes he would, and Jean can tell, but the good thing about it is that Jeremy will not force him.

“Laila and Alvarez are lesbians, by the way,” Jeremy says suddenly, staring at Jean. “And I never thought to mention it to you before, but if you say anything that is violent or homophobic to them, then you are off the team. Trojans don’t stand for discrimination, and they haven’t for a long time.”

Jean doesn’t know why it is any of his business to comment on it if he did have ill feelings towards people like them anyways. He rolls his eyes, mostly because he wants Jeremy to understand that he may be many things, but he is no bigot, however Jermey seems focused on something else; Jean then realizes it, too. There are two girls coming towards them.

Jean knows which is which; Laila is the picture of femininity, with her darkly colored hair, in two braids and wearing something that isn’t too revealing. She has sunglasses on, and her skin, unlike Jeremys, is light, though albeit not as pale as Jeans. She has, curiously, a tattoo that is nearly unseeable on the inside of her arm. Her hand, Jean sees, is wrapped tightly around her partners.

Where Laila looked like pure femininity, Alvarez looks like she could take an entire frat house on and win. Her flannel looks old, like it was something she just decided to throw on. She, too, has her dark hair in braids, but unlike Laila’s pristine ones, hers were messy and needed to be redone. She’s dark like Jeremy, and she looks just as crazy as she had looked the last time he saw her. While he looks her over, he realizes that she, too, is examining every inch of him that she can. She is wearing a guarded expression, and he tries not to show his fake offense when she tightens her hold on Laila’s hand.

Jeremy hugs both of them tightly, and Laila lets out a string of laughter that Jean finds himself listening to. Jeremy turns towards him, and Jean stares at him expectedly.

“Jean, these are my best friends. Laila and Alvarez, this is Jean. Alvarez and Jean- play nice, please.”

Jean smirks just a little bit, but doesn’t say anything.

“Jean isn’t talking very much, so try not to be too-”

“I know who they are,” Jean interrupts, his voice a little weak from the lack of use. His french accent is heavier than he remembers, but he enjoys to hear it nonetheless. The surprise that flashes in Jeremy’s eyes is worth the cough he releases to speak better. “Laila Dermott, a reasonably good goalkeeper in my memory. Valeria Alvarez, backliner, and from what I know and have experienced, you are relatively insane.”

Alvarez shot him a smile. He didn’t want it.

“Jean,” Jeremy says, smiling just slightly. “It’s good to hear your voice,” he looks away from the boy, and instead at his best friends. “Okay. Your things?”

“My brother is driving it down,” Laila replies, shaking her head to him. “The bags we need are at baggage claim.”

“When is your brother due?”

“Couple of hours,” Alvarez says, eyeing her watch. “We told him we’d travel with him, but he didn’t want to see us make out.”

“I am his sister,” Laila points out. Her voice has amusement tinged in it, however, for reasons Jean didn’t understand, and didn’t think he ever would. She looks gleeful as she wraps her arm around her girlfriend. “It could get a little awkward.”

“Oh come on,” Jeremy sighs, shaking his head, but he looks brilliantly radiant. “On the plane, I hope you presented yourselves appropriately.”

“We screwed in the bathroom,” Alvarez tells him, winking as she speaks. “Twice.”

“Incorrigible,” Jeremy tells her, but there is faux disappointment written on his face. He doesn’t need Laila to tell him which bag is hers, because he seems to already know. He picks it up and Alvarez waits for hers. She doesn't seem to want Jeremy to get hers, but she nods at Jeremy approvingly when he doesn’t offer Laila’s bag to her.

The four of them walk out of the airport and to the car, but he knows he should stop thinking of it as such. It’s a truck, with a backseat and a front seat, and it’s a baby blue. It’s slightly beat up, but that doesn’t make it ugly. At first Jean hated it, as he was used to expensive cars with sleek black paint. But now, he just doesn’t mind.

He climbs into the front seat so that the girlfriends can entwine in the back. Jeremy starts the truck, and he’s smiling more now that Laila and Alvarez have arrived. He also is losing the tension that Jean thought would be permanently mounted on his body. Jean, through the side mirror on the outside of the truck, eyes Laila, who sits behind him. He wonders what relaxes Jeremy about these girls, but it really isn’t any of his business. He snaps his eyes away from them.

“So,” Jeremy begins, “how was your trip?”

“Long,” Alvarez says, while Laila says, “Enjoyable.”

“You only say that because it’s your family,” Alvarez says, laughing just a little. “You know how boring it can get, picking strawberries?”

“Laila’s family runs a strawberry farm,” Jeremy tells him. Jean doesn’t say anything, but he nods once so Jeremy knows he heard him.

“Picking strawberries is one of the joys of going home, honey! I love it, and I know you do, too.”

“Do you use your racquet to hit things away from the goal, or your head?”

“I did not miss your bickering,” Jeremy comments, but Jean can tell it’s a lie.

“That’s very rude to say, Alvarez. And you, too, Jeremy. There’s no place like home, and I know that Alvarez enjoys our visits as much as I so, even if she doesn’t want to admit it. You know, I think you need to get more in touch with your vulnerable side, be more aware of your feelings, because you really are lacking.”

“I don’t lack anything, dear,” Alvarez says, winking as she does so.

“Disgusting,” Jeremy whispers, but there is a delightful smile on his face as he says so.

 

They go to the diner that Jeremy had taken him to a couple of days ago. Apparently, it is Alvarez’s favorite restaurant, as she orders the biggest burger on the menu. She eats it happily too, while Laila is enjoying her salad. Jeremy ordered a milkshake, and is dipping his fries into it. Jean once again didnt’ want to order anything, but Jeremy ordered him fries anyways.

Jean eyes what Jeremy is doing, and though the three of them are having a fun conversation, Jean takes one of his fries and dips it into Jeremy’s milkshake. He wants to see how the boy will react, but he also wants to see how the girls will react. They both still, but there is an obvious intrigued look in both of their eyes. Jeremy watches as Jean takes the fry from the shake to his mouth. He stares at Jeremy as he chews, and then finally looks away as he swallows.

“Did you like it?” Alvarez asks after a few moments of stout noiselessness. Jean smirks, but not to her. He nods once, and then does it once more, this time ignoring Jeremy’s look of what can only be shock.

He finds that he continues to shock the boy. Which is exciting. He never thought of himself as a shocking thing; he was usually overlooked, and something of a pawn. He takes in a deep breath, but it’s unnoticeable. Jean sees something in Jeremy’s eye, something he has seen many times when he happens to make eye contact with the captain. That something is distant and faint, but it seems to be growing every time he sees it. Jean knows what it is, because sometimes his own eyes hold the same glint- curiosity. And Jeremy’s curiosity is just beginning to burn.


	3. cognizance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Jean, te he estado buscando toda la noche,” Jeremy tells him, nodding to the best of his drunk ability.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> translations at end notes

Jean is somewhere between sleep and awareness on Jeremy’s couch. He is awake enough that he knows that if he has to react to something, he will; he is also asleep enough to let Jeremy know that there is a slight level of trust in their acquaintance that he knows Jeremy will not endanger Jean or expose him to something while he is vulnerable. 

He has spent a couple of hours drifting and sifting in consciousness, and he is shaking relaxations hand. He never knew what it was like to just lay around, but now he does; on one hand, it makes him feel an overwhelming feeling of disgust towards himself. On the other hand, however, he enjoys the feeling of blissful laziness. He would never voice this; Renee has told him a couple of times that he is welcome to call Bee if he feels the need to release his thoughts, but Jean doesn’t want to anymore. He used to find the conversations he shared with Bee energizing and introspective, but now he just feels tired when he thinks about actually talking to people.

He is thinking of this in a far away place in his head when a hand softly takes hold of his shoulder. If he was more aware, perhaps he wouldn’t feel the strain of terror he feels. Riko is waking him up for his midnight snack, so he said when he wanted to explain his need to destroy. He would laugh, and Jean would laugh too, even though they both knew Jean didn’t find humor in the intensity of Riko’s rage. He can’t help it when he whimpers and throws his arms up in defense mode before every memory of the past few weeks flies back into his mind and he stands up. There is no emotion on his face.

Jeremy looks concerned, and even reaches out again. Jean lets out a bored sigh as he dodges it, and then he crosses his arms over his chest. Jeremy is tall, but Jean has always been taller than those around him. He uses his height for his own advantage; it’s another thing that he has added to the list that Renee and him had made when he was still with her. His voice, his hands, and now his height. These things are his.

His captain drops his hands as if he had touched fire, and then he swallows something thick. His eyes are wary, but not with sleep. He is wary with concern. Jean doesn’t know why this makes his ribs hurt. The boy looks him over, and then nods once, as if he is trying his very best to collect his thoughts and his feelings.

“There’s a party,” he tells Jean. “All of the Trojans will be there, maybe you can meet a few of them. If you want to come. You can stay here and hang out if you want to. I can too, if you want me to hang around.”

Jean thinks about his paint and canvases. He knows there is an art studio on campus, open all day and all night. He thinks that maybe he will take them over there, to unwind and get to know relaxation a little better. He thinks a night without Jeremy would be difficult, but he could find a way to ignore the complexity of it. He looks in Jeremy’s eyes to voice what he wants, and he sees his opinion of his evening shifting into something else. Jeremy isn’t saying it, but his eyes are. There is underlying hope and want for Jean to accompany him. He lifts his eyebrow to Jeremy, because he can see that the boy wants to speak a little more than he did.

“Okay,” Jeremy starts, smiling just a little bit, and then he runs his hand through his hair, as if he is nervous. His hair is in dire need of a snip, though Jean privately hopes that Jeremy doesn’t cut his hair anytime soon. “I think you could have fun tonight, and you would get to meet everyone. It has to be boring with just me, Alvarez and Laila around. You haven’t spoken much in the past few days, but I think tonight you could blow off steam. There will be drinks-”

“Knox,” Jean interrupts, and he gets into a sitting position, not breaking eye contact. “I’ll go.”

“Oh, good,” Jeremy says after a few moments of what they both interpret as awkwardness. “I was. I was hoping you would.”

“I can tell,” Jean sighs, slipping his shoes onto his feet. He wants to ask if they’ll be out long, or if they can come back before it’s too late. Jean was enjoying his lonesome, but maybe Jeremy is right. He knows Renee would agree with Jeremy. That makes him stand, and look over the boy. “When are we leaving?”

“Now, if you want to,” Jeremy says, after looking at his watch. “It’s 10:34, we can head over there now.”

“Will the girls be there?” Jean asks. He sees Jeremy’s face soften, and for only a moment he wonders why before the realization hits him like cold water. The girls is such a simple way of addressing the lovers that had started to just pop up wherever Jean was. But he also knows his mistake. He addressed them with the endearment that Jeremy did. The girls, his girls. He feels himself bite a piece of his cheek off at the error.

“Yeah, man, they’ll be there.” Jean almost says “Good,” but instead he bites his cheek again. He scowls instead and then slams the door behind him, making sure it’s locked. Jeremy is leading him once again, and Jean pulls on his black shirt, readjusting it from his time asleep. Where he is dolled up in blackness, Jeremy is wearing one of his vibrant band t-shirts. Jean recognizes name, only because any time a song comes on, he looks at Jeremy for him to tell him the name of the song and band.

They walk, which Jean is happy about. He likes driving, but he enjoys breathing outside more than in a car. He feels Jeremy next to him, and occasionally they brush each others arms. Jean wonders if this is an experiment to see how long he will allow it, but Jean finds that he really doesn’t mind. He’s angry, for only a second, until he pushes it aside. He was tired of relentlessly being angry and irritated. Tonight, he thinks, I will just be complacent.

He hears the party before he sees it, and he can feel Jeremy’s excited buzz. He looks to the smaller boy but then drags his eyes away. Jeremy had gained just a little bit of sweat on his forehead from the short walk, as Jean had. Another thing that Jean has noticed about his captain, is that when he is defenseless to the wind, his hair becomes even more of a mess than usual. Jeremy never looks bad when he’s messy.

They enter the house, and before Jean can focus on one thing from the commotion, he is distracted.

“Jeremy Knox!”

A girl, obviously completely intoxicated, wonders out of nowhere, throwing her arm around the other boys neck and bring him down for a hug. Jeremy seems to comply, and even smiles his terrific, terrible smile as he does so. She backs away, and pats his cheek just a little. Her and Jeremy have the same color skin, and she looks vaguely familiar, but he can’t remember her name. Maybe he never knew it at all. 

“Jeremy, it’s so good to see you. How was your,” she burps, but she covers her mouth as a fit of giggles follow it, “How was your summer, Jere?”

Jean ignores how he likes that nickname for Jeremy, and simply looks away.

“It was really good, thank you for asking. How about yours? You enjoy your time with family?”

She opens her mouth to respond to him, but Jean sees that he has an audience now, as she stares at him. She sticks out her hand, even though she is drunk beyond belief, and before he even has the chance to take her hand, she drops it.

“Jean Moreau. You know, you checked me into a concussion last year.”

He feels a nasty rebuttal on his tongue, but Jeremy carefully puts a hand on his shoulder, and Jean closes his mouth.

“This is Fran Sanders,” Jeremy tells him, pushing the cheer and pep into his voice, as if trying to remind Jean to play nice. “She’s an alternate striker. She’s really good, too.”

Jean nods once, and then he is captivated by something else that erupts a laugh from him. He never thought he would be able to produce such a noise, but there he is, in the middle of a party, surrounded by Trojans, laughing at Valeria Alvarez. She’s standing on a table, and she has two red solo cups in her hands, and she’s yelling incoherently, and then randomly sloshing back the drinks at the same time. She’s dancing a little too, but she keep slipping and almost losing her balance- the only reason she hasn’t fallen to her demise is because Laila has her arms held out toward her, grabbing her when she starts to lose her balance.

Jean walks towards them, bored of the Fran girl, and he feels Jeremy behind him. There’s quite a crowd, so Jean ignores his self hatred to grab Jeremy’s wrist and pull him through with him. With his height, people are more than happy to move out of the way. He knows Jeremy is staring at him, but Jean refuses to acknowledge it. He chalks it up to Raven tendencies, and releases Jeremy as soon as they are close enough to Laila and Alvarez.

Alvarez isn’t too incoherent anymore. Jean still can’t understand her, but it has little to do with the fact that she is drunk beyond belief. She’s angry, too, and even drops one of her drinks to point at people. “¡Soy tan gay! ¡Amo a mi novia! ¡Es un rayo de luz que a veces me duele los ojos! ¡Yo moriría por ella!”

“Please tell me she isn’t being too vulgar?” Laila asks Jeremy, her hands still outstretched to protect Alvarez. Jean looks to Jeremy, hoping the boy will translate, but he’s just smiling softly, and then he shakes his head, not repeating the words. 

“Laila,” Alvarez says, climbing down in a clumsy manner. “Laila, lets get married.”

Laila is smiling, but she just nods to Alvarez. She looks over to Jean, and then winks at him. “She asks me every time she’s drunk, but never when she’s sober. No balls.”

“That’s one of the reasons you,” Alvarez hiccups, “you love me.”

“You’re right about that,” Laila laughs.

 

Jean still hasn’t touched any alcohol, and he hasn’t spoken in the past few hours. Jeremy had started to drink, and then Jean just gave up on trying to keep up. He has decided to sit on the kitchen counter and look over everyone that was in attendance; he learned that not everyone in the house is on the exy team, which was more than fairly obvious. There were a little over one hundred drunk college students, and if all of them were Trojans, Jean would have jumped off of the second story. Many of them are theatre kids, lacrosse kids, hockey kids- basically, everyone showed up and it didn’t matter.

He picks up a canned beer, and tries to remember the last time he had drank anything for fun. He knows he was with Kevin, only because Kevin was his only access to these types of things. Jean does know that many of the times in the past that he did drink, it was because he was hurt and couldn’t go to the hospital. Dulling the pain. He thinks about not opening it, but does any way. He takes a sip and remembers how much he hates beer, but he keeps drinking it anyways. 

It burns the hurt in Jeans mouth, and Jean spits into the sink next to him. He’s bleeding, again, which wasn’t a surprise. In the majority of the few hours he had been alone, he had chomped on his cheek in boredom. He feels the cool of the knife Andrew had given him on his leg, and he ignores it by standing up and exiting the kitchen.

Jeremy is nowhere in his sight, so he goes to see Laila. She has been drinking, but not as much as Alvarez, who is passed out on the floor. Laila is watching over her like the caring girlfriend she was, smiling occasionally, and laughing with her friends. Jean feels as though he is imposing when he walks up, but Laila seems happy to see him.

“Moreau,” she says sweetly, wrapping her arm around his own. “I was wondering where you ventured off to. Are you having a good time?”

Jean nods, and then shifts closer to her when he sees a guy give her a once over. He juts out his jaw and glares. He knows, then, that Laila has noticed this, and she squeezes Jeans’ arm appreciatively. 

“How long has the crazy one been out?” Jean asks, looking down to Alvarez. He tries not to be offended when Lailas' friends, who had been surrounding her, disappear from his view. 

“Hour and a half, maybe,” she sighs. “Can you help me, actually? Our place is upstairs, and I want to lock her in. I’m too tipsy to trust myself with her wellbeing.”

Jean doesn’t nod, but he picks up Alvarez like she is nothing. He waits for Laila to find her key, and then they’re out and walking. Jean sends glances around when he remembers Jeremy. He knows his way back to Jeremy’s apartment, but he doesn’t want to leave without knowing his captain is okay. He hates that he has lost the ray of sunshine so easily.

They walk up the stairs, and even though there are people in the halls, it’s not as bad as it was downstairs. Laila has some trouble unlocking the door, but she eventually gets it, and she welcomes Jean in.

Jean lays Alvarez down on the bed, even though it was not too gently. He turns to look at Laila, who is blinking to stay awake, and rubbing her eyes. She is surrounded by dirty laundry and college textbooks. Jean looks up at the clock above the door, and lets out a sigh. 3:55 in the morning.

“Sleep,” Jean tells her, and then he moves to wait outside the door. “Lock it.”

“What about you?” Laila asks, and Jean feels a painful pang in his chest. Laila was not fully aware of what was going on, but she was still worried about Jean and how he would fare on his own. “I don’t want to leave you by yourself.” Jean swallows, and then gives her a tight smile in response.

“I can find Jeremy and we can leave. You are tired. Sleep.”

She smiles softly, and, surprisingly, he doesn’t flinch when she pats his cheek softly. He pretends not to notice when her thumb presses down on his number. She pulls away, though, and then nods. “Thank you,” she whispers, and he nods to her. She closes the door, and he waits outside until he knows it is locked.

He makes his way downstairs, his eyes moving intensely. He likes having a purpose, even if it’s only for a night. Find Jeremy, get home. In the back of his head, he thinks it shouldn’t be too hard, because even in a wild crowd, Jeremy stands out. In an even further away part of his brain, he thinks about how he just thought of the word home in reference to Jeremy's apartment. He shakes his head in the hopes of shaking away his thoughts.

He realizes the more that he travels through the people, the more he hates parties. He always knew. He even hated banquets, and those weren’t even rowdy. Unless, of course, Riko wanted to pick a fight with someone, which he normally did. Jean rolls his shoulders and turns a blind eye to the dull pain that still rests in his body. He was healed, but not enough to where he could really exert all of his power. He rolls his shoulder again and hisses just a bit at the sensitivity. He is about to just pull out his phone and call Jeremy, when he hears the boys voice.

“Por favor no me toques,” the boy is saying, and Jean knows that it is without a doubt his roommate and captain. Jeremy may never have spoken a different language in front of him, but Jean knows the boys spiked concerned voice. He had heard it when Jeremy couldn't find his phone, or when he fucked up making breakfast- or, thought he fucked up making breakfast. His cooking was always good to Jean. Fear and concern are cousins, and Jeremy is more than worried about his situation, given the influx of his voice. Jean scowls, and pushes his way through, to find Jeremy.

Jeremy is leaning up against a wall, and even though he isn’t being touched in a way that made Jean too worried for the boys innocence, he still didn’t like the non-consented hand on his shoulder. It was slowly working its way down, and Jeremy was too drunk to really push it away. He splutters a couple of times. “Realmente no quiero que hagas-” he starts, but the other boy covers his mouth. He is thirsty, Jean can tell from the rasp in his voice, but for now, he moves forward. The boy shouldn’t have covered Jeremy’s mouth to shut him up. He'll worry about getting Jeremy something to drink later.

“I don’t know what you’re saying,” the obvious sober voice responds. He’s moving his hand down Jeremy’s back now, while the hand that had pressed over Jeremy’s mouth was cupping his cheek. Jean doesn’t think twice as he grabs the back of the boys head, and yanks his hair back. The boy shouts out his pain, but Jean is bored of it. As softly as he is able, he touches Jeremy’s shoulder, and the other boy is staring at him. It takes a second for recognition to click, but when Jeremy does realize that it’s Jean, he smiles faintly, and then leans into him. They share the same breath.

“Jean, te he estado buscando toda la noche,” Jeremy tells him, nodding to the best of his drunk ability. His grip on Jean tightens for a second.

Jean opens his mouth to tell him he doesn’t speak Spanish, but someone has thrown a lamp at him. He tries not to be too shocked, but he is. A lamp? He turns slowly, releasing Jeremy, but the boy reaches out so as not to fall. Jean doesn’t mind feeling Jeremy’s fingers clutch to his shoulders.

“Did you just,” Jean says, staring the boy down with as much irritation as he feels, “throw a fucking lamp at me?”

The boy is the same height as him, which makes Jeans’ confidence stutter. The other boy is also a tad bit more muscular than him. Jean faces the boy completely and opens his mouth to tell him to fuck off, but instead he is punched hard in the face, sending his face flying back. He hears a distinct pop! and he knows that his nose has just been broken. He regains control of his body before he can fall back on Jeremy.

Renee is his angel, telling him to just grab Jeremy and go, but he can feel Andrew telling him to kill him. The knife that Jean has throbs, and Jean knows who won this battle. He yanks out his knife, and then slashes at the boy. After all, on the short list he has comprised, his hands, his voice, his height are all his; now, this knife is his. And the boy in front of him not only threatened him, but also Jeremy, which was unforgivable. Jean isn’t sure when it became such, but he will think on it later. 

As soon as he makes his definite cut on the boys cheek, which makes him scream in surprise, Jean sends a kick to his chest. When aggressor has fallen on his back, Jean slips his knife back into his holster, and then climbs on top of the boy, sending punch after punch after punch, until all he sees is red.

He remembers Riko, suddenly, telling him that there was no such activity more freeing than watching someone be destroyed. When he hears Rikos voice, he stops, and then he hears a new voice, one much more alive than Rikos, and one that is able to tug on his heart strings. He doesn’t know what Jeremy is saying, since he is still speaking in Spanish, but he can tell the boy is out of his mind, and he stops. He stops and stands, and ignores the stares of everybody around them, and the two boys leave. He decides that spending all his time with Alvarez, Laila and Jeremy is not boring, no matter what Jeremy said before.

 

Jean is making Jeremy food for the first time since they have moved in together. He doesn’t know how to make much, never having to prepare his own food in the past, but he watched Jeremy enough to know how to make eggs. He noticed, also, that, like him, Jeremy prefers OJ over milk in the morning time. He pours him a cup as he sees the boy walk out of the bathroom, his hangover more than obvious. Jean tears his eyes away from him, hoping not to be caught staring.

“Good morning,” Jean tells him, and Jeremy winces, before looking up and his eyes widening. He immediately covers his eyes from the sun, and then takes Jeans normal spot at the bar.

“Is your nose broken?” Jeremy asks, his voice groggy and rusty. He had fallen asleep on the walk back last night, and Jean had had to lay him down in his bed. Jean looks up the clock- it’s four thirty in the afternoon, and he smiles just a bit.

“I think so,” Jean tells him, leaning on the counter. “How are you feeling?”

“Confused,” Jeremy tells him, raising his eyebrow. “What the hell happened last night?”

Jean shrugs. He doesn’t really want to fill Jeremy in on how much went down, because he doesn’t want Jeremy to worry. If it came out, that would be the time to tell Jeremy the story of his first party. Truthfully, Hungover Jeremy seems much more tense than Normal Jeremy. He didn't want to make the boy more sick than he evidently is.

“Jean, what happened to your nose?” he asks, his voice full of concern, even though he looks like he’s about to puke his guts out. “I want to know.”

“Don’t worry,” Jean told him. “I took care of it.”

“Well, I don’t think I like the sound of that either,” he said, but there was a tint of amusement in his voice, and he even was smiling a little bit.

It’s that moment, when Jeremy lets the conversation die to eat his breakfast, that Jean realizes something that he can no longer avoid. Jeremy Knox is not a danger to him, and never will be; Jean respects him, far more than he respects Kevin and Neil. He would even go as far to say that he trusts Jeremy. Were he in Jeremy’s position the night before, Jeremy would have done the same thing for Jean, though, admittedly, in a less violent way. But Jean would have never been in the position last night, because if the two boy traded places, Jeremy wouldn’t have given up on trying to keep up. Jean makes himself promise, then, that he isn’t going to leave Jeremy vulnerable ever again. He grimaces, but Jeremy can’t see it. He’s too busy enjoying Jean’s breakfast for him. Jean feels something in his heart break, but it isn’t a dead feeling. No, he thinks it might be the birth of something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't know how regularly i can update but i tried to write as much as i could this weekend before school gets crazy again. also, translations below, as promised. (also i used google translate so if they aren't accurate im sorry that im a piece of shit)
> 
> ¡Soy tan gay! ¡Amo a mi novia! ¡Es un rayo de luz que a veces me duele los ojos! ¡Yo moriría por ella! - I'm so gay! I love my girlfriend! It is a ray of light that sometimes my eyes hurt! I would die for her!
> 
> Por favor no me toques - Please do not touch me
> 
> Realmente no quiero que hagas - I really do not want you to do
> 
> Jean, te he estado buscando toda la noche - Jean, I've been looking for you all night.


	4. magnanimity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He takes his pointer finger and crosses his heart, staring Jeremy in the eyes as he does so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i said at some point that i had this planned out for fourteen chapters but i was overlooking the planning of it, and i think i can spread it out a little bit more than fourteen so i take it back

Jean Moreau enjoys waking up on his own; that doesn’t mean he isn’t looking forward to when every Trojan has returned to campus, and they are able to practice cohesively. Jeremy has been very relaxed, but Jean isn’t fooled; he knows that the second everybody is there, he will become the leader he is. Jean knows this because he remembers Jeremy- he didn’t think much would stand out to him when he arrived, but since he has, he keeps remembering details of the snippets they have been around each other. Jeremy’s hardening face, as well as his ability to encourage and critique his team, are just a few of the things he has stumbled upon in his mind.

He likes waking up on his own, though, because for a long time he could never remember the moment he did wake up. He was just somehow on the court. Jean doesn’t want to complain about it, but his body is thanking him; he just wishes his mind would quiet down. Sometimes, he opens up his phone and reads Renee’s messages. They’re always supportive and glowing. It makes him feel better on how he handles things, on how he sees things. She always knows what to say.

Renee is a different kind of person- a kind he’d never met before. From the little he knows, she had a rough past (though, to be fair, he didn’t know all that much). Even with said rough past, however, she was able to smile and be gentle. Jean never thought he would envy her, but being surrounded by the Trojans makes him so. He wishes he had the calm spirit she did, though perhaps not as religious. Thanks to the interference of his past, however, he could never be that. He likes Renee, even, although it wasn’t as he previously anticipated. They were friends- or, so she told him. He had trouble with the word. If he couldn’t call Kevin Day a friend, who could he?

He stretches, and then rises. He doesn’t smell breakfast, but that doesn’t upset him. He didn’t expect it every morning, though a break in routine gives him a spike of adrenaline. He creeps out of his and Jeremy’s room, and finds the boy in the living room, talking with Alvarez. Jean isn’t startled, but he does feel mildly uncomfortable, mostly because the two of them are talking in whispers.  
They even stop upon his arrival.

“Secrets?” he asks, and he isn’t going to intrude. Even though he does want to know why he isn’t being involved, he knows that he isn’t friends with the two of them and he cant expect to always be there for every single one of Jeremy’s conversations. He moves past them and into the kitchen, looking through the pantry for some cereal.

“Don’t eat anything,” Jeremy says, and Jean stops. He thinks about grabbing the honey combs box anyways, but he resigns himself. He climbs on top of the counter, overlooking the two of them with a bored face. Alvarez is looking at him with a tense expression, while Jeremy just seems nervous and unsure. Jean doesn’t change his emotionless stare because he doesn’t think he cares all that much, no matter what is happening.

“Jean,” Jeremy begins, but Alvarez elbows him. The picture of the boy at the party flashes in Jeans mind, and he pushes it away. Alvarez wouldn’t hurt Jeremy. He doesn’t have to step in and protect him from her when there is more trust between the two of them than there will ever be between Jean and Kevin. He takes in a breath, not really in anticipation, but in apathy.

“Jean,” Alvarez starts, a different voice than Jeremy’s, and she crosses her arms over her chest. 

“Why do you both look like you’re about to deliver bad news?” Jean finally asks, because, really, whatever they are going to ask is not going to be as ginormous a deal as they probably think. He thinks of what could be bad news; he comes to a sad realization that if there were unwanted news, they would not be the ones to deliver it, because they don’t know anything about him at all. He picks up a bottle of water from the counter that he guesses used to be Jeremy’s, but now it’s his. He doesn’t miss the way Jeremy smiles just a tad.

“It isn’t bad news,” Jeremy says, and then he gets in front of Alvarez, as if he is demanding all the attention in the world- which, Jean finds himself thinking, Jeremy could definitely achieve. “Some of the team just isn’t sure if you’re up for it- you see, every year before the season starts, the Trojans get together a couple of times for team bonding.”

“I won’t go to another party,” Jean tells him. It is matter-of-fact, to the point, unarguable.

“It’s not a party,” Jeremy shakes his head. He seems slightly disappointed with his statement though, and as he opens his mouth to continue, Alvarez decides to stick her foot into his speech. Jeremy, in turn, doesn’t look irritated or angry. He actually sighs and rolls his eyes, which Jean finds slightly comical. Who knew that Jeremy Knox could be anything other than sunny?

“Listen, Moreau, we go to pride parades. We volunteer at soup kitchens. Spend time with animals in rehabilitation centers, go old folk homes. That sort of thing. But you have to be nice, and presentable, and some of the team,” she said, and Jean is surprise to hear the regret, “don’t think you should come. It is always a publicity thing, because I guess reporters have fun seeing humans actually behave like they should, and the team is worried you’ll brand the Trojans the wrong way. After all, we aren’t the Ravens.”

Jean finds that his hair is up on his neck, but he rolls out his shoulder to ignore it. He is annoyed and irritated at the little spike of soreness that pricks his thoughts. Even the Trojans don’t think he’s good enough. He looks at Jeremy and Alvarez, and he’s overcome with one thought, and there is no way to know if it’s true or not unless presented. He gives a jeering smirk, and then nods, like he understands. 

“By team,” he begins, and then he lifts his left hand, orchestrating at them, “you mean you, don’t you?”

“Not me,” Jeremy says immediately, and Jean is surprised that he believes him. Jeremy looks like he means it, too, because his eyebrows go down as if he’s concentrated on getting his point across. He looks at Alvarez as if he’s indifferent to what she has to say. Jean knows why this simple little thing means something so gratifying to him, but he still pains when he think of how much he is affected.

“Maybe me,” Alvarez says, and she even sounds guilty. “But to be fair, Jean, you haven’t talked to us at all. Laila told me what you did for her at the party, and that was sweet, and I appreciate it, but other than that, there hasn’t been anything positive. Sure, not a lot of negatives. But all you do is stay by yourself- sometimes, you go days without talking. I know the transition is difficult, but a team is a team, and you’re offering very little. I’m sorry if I doubt you, but to be completely truthful, I don’t even know you. And that’s not for lack of trying.”

Jean understands, but that doesn’t mean he won’t be prickled with annoyance. He lets out a dissatisfied sigh, and then eyes the kitchen, in the need of something to focus on. “I won’t go then.” He was planning on sleeping more, anyways.

“Yes,” Jeremy says, his voice sharp, and Jean looks at him. He has his captain face on, and Jean tries not to stare, but he really can’t help it. Gone was the boy who danced when he made breakfast, and there was the man who yelled out commands to his fleet. Jean wishes he could find some resemblance to Riko, just to make it normal, but he can’t. Jeremy is better. He knows that, Kevin knows that, Neil knows that- everybody knows the type of human that Jeremy Knox is, and the only way to describe him is better. “You will be coming with the Trojans, and you will prove them wrong, just like you have everybody else. You’ll prove Alvarez wrong,” he says, gesturing to his best friend as she drops her shoulders just a little bit, “and you’ll prove whatever doubts I have,” he says, pointing to his chest, “that you are a great asset to this team- though, I have to tell you, I have very little.”

Jean isn’t smiling, but Jeremy is looking at him like he is. Jean gets off of the counter, and then nods to him. 

“Get dressed. We’re eating breakfast in the cafeteria, and then we’re heading off to a soup kitchen.”

Jean retreats back into their shared room and tries not to feel like he’s on the top of the world.

 

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Alvarez whispers to Jeremy, but Jean doesn’t waste time on hearing the response. He is on the Trojans bus, headed towards their destination; he has his earphones in, but he isn’t listening to music. Not because he doesn’t feel like it, but because he’s embarrassed to say that he doesn’t know any modern songs. He vaguely remembers french ballads from his time in his home country, when his mother would try to persuade him into sleep, but those are blurry and indefinite. He sits himself by a window seat, in the very back, and ignores the feeling of nothingness around him, and even within him.

He feels someone sit down beside him, but he doesn’t want to look and see. He knows that Alvarez and Laila are together, as they usually are, and he saw Jeremy talking to the Fran girl again. He didn’t think he would know the person next to him. He sees a hand reach out to him, and he stills, waiting for the threat to become more obvious before taking action- the knife is still concealed on his person- but, instead, the finger taps his wrist.

Jean turns and tries not to be dumbfounded by Jeremy Knox. The captain of the Trojans has not opted to be with the rest of his team socially, and instead has decided to sit next to him. He really should stop expecting less from his captain, when he seems to proving him wrong every time. Jean straightens, and refuses to speak. He pulls out one of his earbuds, though it makes little difference, since nothing is playing. Jeremy obviously takes that as an invitation, though, which Jean guesses isn’t the wrong assumption.

Jeremy’s brown eyes are looking at him as if they are trying to uncover a secret or hidden treasure. He points to Jean’s phone and then smiles his uniquely soft smile. “What are you listening to?”

Jean panics, but not for long. He looks forward. “Nothing. I just didn’t want anybody to talk to me.”

Jeremy laughs a little bit, and Jean refuses to acknowledge how melodious it sounds- it sounds much like the almost-forgotten ballads of his childhood. Sometimes, when Jean closes his eyes, he can hear his mother humming. He also hears crashing waves, and laughter. It isn’t a good memory, though. He pushes it away as soon as he thinks of it.

“Sorry to ruin it, then,” Jeremy says. “But since we are talking, what do you like to listen to?”

Jean looks at him to see if the boy is mocking him, but he isn’t. Jeremy is interested in Jean, and is wanting to know things about him that don’t matter and hold no real weight. If he didn’t, Jean knows he would be with the people on the bus that he is completely comfortable with- Alvarez, Laila, Fran, maybe the twins Declan and Dominic, if he didn’t want to know Jean. Jean looks around, and nobody is paying them any mind- in fact, they all seem rather caught up in a story that Laila is telling about a monk. Besides, the two of them are a couple of seats behind the rest of him, and even if he does talk, they, in all probability, will not hear him. He looks at Jeremy, straight into his chestnut eyes, and speaks.

“There wasn’t music at the nest. It was almost always quiet,” he says. He says almost, because of the screaming, puking, or crying that would take place routinely. Although, if he ever wants to focus on the things that happened, he’ll keep it in his own mind, because he doesn’t want Jeremy to have to feel like he needs to fix something that is completely obliterated. There was no changing or fixing Jean, like Jeremy cleaned his kitchen, and Jean would learn to deal with his brokenness. He was made to survive, and he would continue to do so. Jean can see Jeremy trying not to react to the abrupt honesty, but Jean knows how much the boy loves music. He dances in the morning, and sings in the shower. He hums before he falls asleep. At first, it was annoying, but now, Jean likes it. He never got to really experience it before. It’s both an oddity and a pleasure to hear unwarranted happiness and positivity. 

“None?” Jeremy asks, carefully. 

“Well,” Jean says, a very sardonic smile is on his face, “before we went into games, sometimes they played music that were supposedly well known. But, like I told you at the airport. Sometimes I forget the games. And even if I do remember them, I wasn’t focused on the music. I was focused on winning. That’s what I’m meant to do.”

Jeremy looks forward, as if he is trying to collect every thought he ever had about Jean Moreau. He looks Jean over again, and when he opens his mouth, Jean thinks that he’s about to say something inspirational and reflective, but instead he says, “Let me see your phone.”

Jean doesn’t think twice as he hands it to him.

Jeremy plays around for a little bit, and then he gestures to the earbuds. Jean takes that as his cue, and slides both of them in, waiting for Jeremy to introduce him to the world of music. Jean isn’t sure why he feels nervous, but he does. He’s heard songs since he’s been back, and Jeremy has told him the band names when Jean looks for them, but this feels different and much more personal and intentional.

There’s a careful guitar playing, and then a man singing. Jean knows what he’s saying, because it’s english, but something about this song makes him feel very warm in his chest so he doesn’t remember the lyrics. He’s singing about his love- a person, not a feeling. He looks away from Jeremy when he feels like it’s getting too intense, but he continues to listen to the song that’s playing. He enjoys it, and he’s surprised he does. It’s simple and not as intense as the music that Jeremy listens to when he cooks his eggs and biscuits. 

When the song is over, he pulls out one of his earbuds, and looks at Jeremy. “That was very pretty.”

He knows that Jeremy is surprised to hear him say this by the glint that brightens in his eyes. Inspiration? Relief? The captains shoulders relax a little, and he nods. “City and Colour. It’s called Northern Wind,” he says after a second, and then he hands Jean back his phone. “I logged into my spotify. You can listen to whatever you want on there. There’s playlists and stuff, or you could listen to what I listen to,” he says, showing Jean where to click. “I mostly listen to Spanish music, though, and I don’t think you speak Spanish.”

Jean smiles. It isn’t big, but it’s enough to hear Jeremy take an intake of breath. He wants to say thank you, but he doesn’t, because he doesn’t know how. He nods, though, because he knows how to do that. Jeremy seems to understand, and he tentatively takes an ear piece. Jean begins to hand him back his phone, but Jeremy doesn’t want it. “You play something,” he says, leaning back on the chair and smiling at Jean. He even scoots a little closer so that there’s some slack in the earphones.

Jeans hands begin to sweat from nerves, but he doesn’t think it’s because of music anymore.

 

Jean understands things- it isn’t as if he has never been in front of anybody before. He knows to smile, to charm, and to listen. He ignores the reporters, because reporters mean questions, and he isn’t much one for answers. He is carefully pouring soup into bowls, Jeremy to his left and Laila to his right. They’re all actively participating in wishing the man a good day, but Jean knows he sounds a little forced. He’s smiling as much as he is able to without hurting. He’s never gotten used to smiling, in all of the years he has spent in the limelight. But then again, he didn’t always have to, because he was never in the center.

The number three burns on his cheek, but he refuses to scratch at it.

He flinches at the flash of a camera, and tries not to remember the electric currents that would pulse through his body when Riko would get a little curious. He turns away, for a moment, and collects his thoughts, trying to distance himself from the nest. He can hear Riko laugh, and he doesn’t know why it makes his chest tighten; he will never understand. Jean is logical, and he always has been, but sometimes all his logic didn’t mean shit. He knows he shouldn’t miss Riko, but he does. He does very much. He smiles again, and he knows it’s looking faker and faker by the hour.

“You okay?” Jeremy asks him, and Jean wants to bark at him. He looks to him to tell him off, but instead, he finds himself stilling. Jeremy is looking at him like he is concerned for his wellbeing, just like he always has, but somehow this time is more authentic. He knows a little bit about Jean, now, and he knows that things aren’t very simple. He can tell, even, that Jeremy tried to force the words into easiness, though nothing could mask the uptake in his breath as he looked at Jean. Jean nods once, and then turns away.

Sometimes he hates being so tall- he can see everything and everyone. Over the heads of those in the shelter, he sees an even bigger calamity of reporters, all being held off by the police, so they wouldn’t raid into the homeless shelter to badger the athletes/volunteers, but he sees them for only a moment before ripping his eyes away. Jean thinks about his morning in the kitchen, and realizes that maybe he wasn’t ready for this, for reporters. He hadn’t even thought about how he was going public for the first time since Riko’s death. He looks down at his clock, and he swallows. They’re only in there for a couple of more minutes before the process to leave begins. He chokes down all of his rough feelings, just like he always has.

He dumps soup into a bowl carefully, and then the man he’s serving grabs his wrist. Jean forces himself to not be alarmed. The man is old, tiny. He could handle it. He could win. But then the man is looking at him with deep grief, and Jean hurries to grab the escaped jump of emotion before any of it makes its way to his face. He digs it down, deep into the graveyard of his chest.

“Jean Moreau,” the man says, like he knows him. He doesn’t. “Big fan of yours. I got to say to you, I am sorry about your friend. He was an amazing exy player.”

Jean knows his facade crumbles just a little bit, but the man is already gone. His hand is still outstretched, and he carefully sits in down. Did someone just offer him condolences for Riko? He chomps down on his cheek before he thinks about it, and he feels the blood gush into his mouth. He slips the apron off and walks carefully to the bathroom.

He goes inside and spits the blood into the sink, washing it down as quickly as it came out. He hears the door begin to open, but he slams it shut with his hand. He doesn’t want anyone to see him right now. He will be collected. He will be charming. He feels his chest shake like an earthquake, but he holds his breath, calming his attack.

Jean spits out a little bit more blood and then opens to door. He knows Jeremy is looking at him with apprehensiveness, but he merely walks by him. He’s surprised when he realizes that Jeremy isn’t trying to talk to him. He was going to go out of his way to ignore him, but now he doesn’t have to. He can watch and listen to him breathe without having to worry that he’ll bite his cheek off again in his rage and pain. 

He’s about to slip back on the apron when he realizes they’re leaving. Jean doesn’t remember grabbing his things and making his way to the doors outside, but somehow he gets there. He just knows he’s smiling, nodding and shaking hands. He can’t speak just yet, but he is actively swallowing his blood just in case someone talks to him- not that there’s a lot anymore anyways. Besides, he doesn’t want to talk. He doesn’t have to answer reporters.

“Moreau! Moreau!”

The flashing cameras throw him off, but he merely flinches and then covers his eyes. He smiles to all of them, though, because he remembers what Jeremy said about proving the Trojans wrong. He wants so badly to prove himself, and he is determined to. He nods to them, even though he hasn't heard any questions just yet.

“Is it true that Riko committed suicide?”

“Was Riko unstable?”

“Is it true that he overdosed?”

“Jean, Jean! Did Riko have a history with depression?”

“What do you have to say about becoming number two, now?” Jean feels his resolve slipping, but not his smile. He climbs onto the bus and it drops within an instant. He finds himself at the back of the bus, and he realizes that Jeremy will more than likely want to sit next to him again, especially after that mess. He puts his feet out along the seats, though, and shoves his earbuds and his phone into his pocket. He doesn’t feel like listening to music right now. He doesn’t feel like doing anything. He just stares straight ahead, dwelling on Riko. He knows that Rikos cause of death hadn’t been released to the public, mostly for a combination of a thousand things. Ichirou had made sure that it was all kept extremely quiet, because that was just the type of man he was. Efficient and wary.

Suicide. Riko never could have done it, he thinks. Riko may have hated himself because he could never capture his fathers affection, but he loved himself enough to never entertain the thought. Others, however… Riko entertained the thought of doing the exact thing his brother did to him. He wonders, in a far away part of his mind, if Riko thought about Jean while he had a gun to his head. Probably not, he convinces himself. He just wonders a lot of things. Things that will never be answered.

When they get back to campus, Jean is happy to make his way back to the apartment. He feels Jeremy walking behind him, but he doesn’t let up. He wants to get away from Jeremy, to avoid him, but he knows that there is little places to run to. He steps in front of the door and curses himself for rejecting the key Jeremy had offered to make him the first week he was there. He leans against the wall, though, and he stares at nothing, waiting for Jeremy to let him in.

And he does. The captain unlocks the door and goes in first. He turns around, and the two of them look at each other. Before Jeremy can speak, before Jean can yell at him in warning, a phone starts to ring. Jean scowls. It’s his own. He doesn’t bother with looking at the ID, and instead begins to speak in furious french.

“Do you have to call whenever any little thing happens? I’m fine, you’re fine, we’re all fine, because Riko is dead, Kevin, and we’re going to make money, and that’s all that matters, isn’t it? Leave me-”

“Hey,” a softer voice says, and Jean halts in his french. He realizes that Jeremy was looking at him sadly when he went off in french, but with his halt, he has calmed. This makes a new bubble of fury pop in his chest, but he captures it once more, because he still has the phone to his ear, and he feels something akin to guilt.

“Renee,” Jean whispers into the phone, because it isn’t Kevin. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I’m sorry. I thought you were Kevin.”  
She laughs a little, and Jean moves towards the terrace, but Jeremy carefully reaches out. He doesn’t touch, but it’s obvious he wants to have a conversation. Jean stills, and then stares at him.

“It’s okay,” Renee says over the phone, and Jean pays attention to her, even though he is staring deep into Jeremy’s eyes. He tries not to feel overwhelmed with the onslaught of painful feelings. What was it he told Bee? “‘Everything I paint is painful. It’s beautiful, however. Makes for good art, or so I’m told. I have been told to work on something brighter. Any suggestions?’”

Jean immediately grabs the sentimental, soft, and untouched voice in his head and pushes it away. He refuses that Jeremy is something brighter for him, because even though the boy is caring after him, and is concerned, it means nothing. He is a captain. He is worried for his team. Andrew told him to keep his trust. He was allowed to be careful with it, unlike he could in the past. He knows that he will never have anything remotely similar to friendship; he is too dysfunctional to handle the responsibility of it. He’s about to hang up on Renee to tell Jeremy to keep his charity, but Renee speaks again and he finds himself calm.

“I heard that you were attacked by reporters today,” she remarks. Jeremy still hasn’t moved, and neither has Jean. Jean wants to reply to Renee, but he doesn’t know what to say. “Jeremy texted me. Said he was worried about you. I am, too. I saw a video. They were asking you things you never should have been asked, Jean.”

His throat fills with grief, but he doesn’t reveal this to either of them. Instead, he stays standing there, with Jeremy’s arm outreached to stop him from running. He wants a conversation, and even though Jean can’t give him that, just hearing from Renee reminds him that he has to do better, even though he more than likely never will. He is incapable of being better than this. This, he thinks as he clenches his fists, is all I have to offer.

“You have to open up to Jeremy, Jean. I’m not saying now, and I’m not saying tomorrow. I am your ally, but I’m so far away. He is with you. Let him help you.”

“I don’t,” Jean says. I don’t need or want help, he wants to say. He just can’t make his throat work.

“You do,” Renee hums softly. “And that’s okay.”

He doesn’t say anything.

“I think I’ve helped, since you aren’t yelling in french anymore. I should go. Allison wants to watch a movie. Call me whenever you need me, Jean.”

She hangs up without waiting to hear from him. 

He looks at Jeremy, and something shifts.

“I hope I proved myself to you, and your team mates today. I enjoyed myself,” he says, empty, careful, reserved. Jeremy flinches. “I don’t like reporters, and I want to stay far away from them. I understand the need for good publicity. In the future, though, it needs to be tame. I will not do that again.”

“You’ll never have to,” Jeremy says. “I won’t let that happen again. I,” he falters, and then he points to Jeans face. “Let me get you some numbing cream, for the inside of your cheek. It has to hurt.”

“Like a bitch,” Jean responds honestly, and Jeremy smiles, though it isn’t as bright as Jean would like. Jean looks away. He wants to say thank you, but he doesn’t know how. Jeremy turns away, off to find the cream, and Jean silently thanks Renee from where he is standing.

She knows how to talk to him, which is something that feels… he can’t think of the word. He just likes to be heard, and seen, and Renee proves that she is able to do both. She called saying exactly what he needed to hear, whether or not the reporting incident happened or not. He’s not sure if he’ll take the advice, but he is happy that she is so heartfelt and attentive to him.

Jeremy returns, and he lets Jean rub it in his own mouth. He feels it go numb almost immediately, and he finds that he likes the feeling.

“Now that your mouth is numb,” Jeremy begins, his hair like a hood over his eyes, “I will talk, and I hope you will listen.”  
That’s when Jean realizes that it was a trap to put the cream in his mouth. He is nothing but impressed. The corners of his mouth quirk up to Jeremy, though it’s hard to control, and it probably looks weirder than usual. Jeremy, however, after seeing his attempted smirk, gains some confidence.

“I obviously don’t know everything that happened to you. I know there’s an investigation going on at Evermore on cruelty, but I think it goes a lot deeper than what you, or even Kevin have told me. And that’s okay, I don’t mind being in the dark, but I need to stress that that has to be temporary. When I told Kevin that I would take you on my team, it wasn’t because I was in need of a backliner. It was because I knew then what I still know now: you are the best backliner in the game, and you will continue to get better. You will make it to court, and I want you on my team because I think you could make us better. But,” he says, and he takes in a deep breath, “you can’t be a ghost anymore. You have to start actually meeting the other teammates. You know me, Laila, Alvarez, and I think you said maybe four words to Fran. Most of them still need convincing, and I can’t do that all by myself. This doesn't mean you have to explain everything in intricate detail. We don't care about your past, we care about your future.”

Jean doesn’t say anything for a long time. He knows what Jeremy is saying, but he can’t just nod or say yes. He’s promising progress if he does that, and Jean isn’t sure if he has any progress in him. He does see that Jermey means what he says. And, when the truth comes to the bones, Jean has to work with this team in order to make it to court. If he doesn’t make it to court, he is dead, and not figuratively. The deal cut with Ichirou is more than clear, and Jean is going to do what he has to do in order to survive- just like he always has.

Even if this means that he follows Jeremy’s call; which, when he thinks about it, isn't the worst thing that could happen to him.

He can’t speak because of the cream, but he tries for a second. The problem is that the cream as also gotten onto his tongue, and by extension his entire mouth. Jeremy coughs out a startled laugh at the noise Jean makes, and Jean is tempted to try and talk once more, if only to hear him make that ridiculous sound again. Jean tries to think of a way to respond sufficiently to all that was said, to convey that he will do his very best. He takes his pointer finger and crosses his heart, staring Jeremy in the eyes as he does so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't forget to leave a kudos if you enjoyed it. if there is grammar mistakes i'm sorry, i really did my best to look over it !!! if there's a really bad one let me know. thank you!


	5. impression

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Do you have nightmares often?” Jeremy breaks the quiet, his voice wrought with enervation, and Jean thinks about if he wants to answer the boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> be warned- there might be spelling mistakes. i think i caught the worst of them but i'm also a dumbass.

Jean is no stranger to nightmares, but he’s never minded them before. When he used to wake from them, he wished he could crawl back into them; it was his reality that ripped scars down his chest and blackened his eyes. He never saw how dreams could possibly haunt him so, but Renee did tell him they would come. He shrugged it off, then, because the present was still horrid. But now, he’s surrounded by the Trojans. He hasn’t heard anybody scream in agony since Riko died, but he hasn’t been surrounded with rough stares and angry hands in nearly three months. He got to USC in the first week of September, and now winter break is just around the corner. It’s only normal that his mind starts to taunt him now.

In his dream, he can’t speak french. He’s trying to talk to Kevin, quietly, where Riko can’t hear him, but it’s no use. He continues to speak in english, even though he is trying to force his tongue to speak his native language. Nothing is working, and Riko has heard every word he has said to Kevin. Jean tries to run in his dreams, which he never would have done in actuality, but he isn’t able to move.

He wakes when Riko grabs the back of his neck.

He thinks it might have been his own quiet intake of breath that woke him, or maybe the scare of his own dream. He doesn’t react to the alien room he’s in. His hands are shaking, but he slowly moves them around. He’s on a twin bed, he realizes, and he’s by a wall. He is in a corner, he then realizes. It takes a minute for everything to come back to him, and he sags with relief. He turns to see the time on the clock he and Jeremy have sitting on the bedside table, but instead he locks eyes with his captain. He swallows, and wipes his face. He knows he’s sweating terribly and is a picture of anguish, but he tries to calm down. 

“Do you have nightmares often?” Jeremy breaks the quiet, his voice wrought with enervation, and Jean thinks about if he wants to answer the boy. He’s about to respond, but then he winces.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

There is silence for a while more, but it isn’t uncomfortable. Jean just stares at the ceiling, and then sneaks a glance over to Jeremy. The boy is laying on his side, his arms wrapped around his chest, and he’s staring at the door. The light that shines through the window, through the shades, it lands on Jeremy’s face, but not harshly. Jeremy looks like a blurry painting of soft blues. Jean is about to rip his eyes away when Jeremy meets his eyes once more.

“Can you sleep?” Jeremy whispers, curious. Jean is about to tell him, yes, I can sleep again, but he knows it’s a lie. He will be awake for the rest of the night. The clock is flashing two thirty-six. He shakes his head just a little bit, because Jeremy has only ever asked for the truth, and that’s what Jean will give him when he is able to. “Me either,” Jeremy whispers again. It’s only then that Jean realizes that his own nightmare probably wasn’t the reason Jeremy woke in the first place. He wonders what makes his captain stay up at night, but he doesn’t ask just yet.

“Do you,” Jeremy starts, but he seems withdrawn. He sits up, nervous. He isn’t looking at Jean anymore, but instead out the window. “Do you want to get something to eat?”

Jean nods. He will do anything to get out of this apartment, and as he rises, cautious with keeping his shirt pulled down, he makes way to their shared closet. One would be able to tell where the line was drawn. Jean has very little, but the little he has is all black. He grabs one of his t-shirts, and then he grabs a pair of sweatpants. When he turns, Jeremy is behind him, pulling off his t-shirt and grabbing his USC Exy shirt. He doesn’t notice Jean’s eyes, but Jean looks away before he can be burned.

Jeremy does not have a single blemish.

Jean goes to the bathroom and locks the door, changing quickly. He looks in the mirror for the first time in… weeks, he realizes. His hair had grown back from the places Riko had ripped at it, but there is an obvious unevenness to it. His bruising had gone down, but there were still slight remnants of the pain he experienced. The only thing he could really stare at though was that number on his cheek. Number three. He touches it with the pad of his thumb, softly, and then shakes his head. He turns on the cold water from the sink and splashes it on his face, hoping new life will be rewarded to him. 

When he steps out, Jeremy is looking no better than he is, with slack shoulders and an unreadable expression on his face. His eyes are dazed, and his hair is messier than usual, mostly because he hadn’t even tried to calm it. He’s dressed in his USC Exy shirt, and black basketball pants. His sneakers aren’t new, but they are in prime condition. Jean stands next to him, and that’s when Jeremy finally realizes that they can leave.

“Sorry,” he says in a stupefied voice. He opens the door, and then locks it after Jean exits behind him. Jean watches him fumble for a moment- his hands are shaking almost as bad as Jeans were moments ago. Jean isn’t sure what overcomes him to do so, but he grabs Jeremys hand. He doesn’t miss the way Jeremy stills, but he refuses look to the staring man just yet, and instead takes the key and locks it himself. He slides the key back into Jeremy’s hand without a word.

Jean stares openly at Jeremy, and invites him to lead the way. Jean knows that he himself has had a rough night, but Jeremy isn’t glowing like the sun as he usually is. Jean doesn’t know why he feels so influenced by this, but he smiles a bit. Not enough, because Jeremy almost seems to have missed it, until he is staring at Jeans lips. He lets out a little breath at the sight of it, and then he meets Jeans eyes again.

“I don’t feel like driving,” Jeremy tells him. Jean doesn’t have a license, but he knows how to drive and he is willing to take the risk for Jeremys sake. “Lets walk,” Jeremy tells him instead. “There’s an ice cream parlor that’s open 24/7 on campus. I can buy.”

Jeremy turns away and begins walking before Jean can realize what he said.

So, in an easy silence, the two of them walk towards the ice cream parlor. Jean thinks back to a hundred bad nights. Ice cream had never so much as passed his mind. He doesn’t think he remembers the last time he had ice cream, if he’s had it at all. They didn’t have sweets at the nest, and ice cream is definitely that. He looks at Jeremy instead, and the boy looks serene in the night light, the early morning hours. 

The parlor is open, and there is only one worker, who has decided to sit on the counter and be on her phone. She doesn’t look upset when she’s interrupted by her only customers, but instead smiles big and happy. “Jeremy Knox! I was wondering when you’d be by this semester. The Trojans, as usual, are doing amazing this year. All thanks to you, I’m sure.” Jean doesn’t react to this, but Jeremy smiles happily. The girl looks to Jean, and even quirks her eyebrows a bit. “I was surprised when Jeremy said you’d be joining on, but you’re really good. Duh,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Good game last Friday, by the way,” she tells him, and Jean flushes.

“I’ll have strawberry ice cream,” Jeremy tells her. She nods.

“I know, I know,” she smirks. “What about you, string bean? What will you have?”

Jean hurries a look at Jeremy, and Jeremy watches the realization on his face. He looks shocked, but then he pushes it away, turning to the girl. “He’ll have chocolate. With sprinkles.”

She smiles, and nods.

They get their ice cream, and sit outside. It’s cold enough now that they should be wearing jackets, but Jean enjoys the sensation of chill on his body, especially after a nightmare. Jeremy seems to agree. Eating ice cream in the coolness, though, leaves them both shivering just a bit. It isn’t unbearable. Actually, Jean begins to think, this may be the most fun I’ve ever had off the court.

“What woke you?” Jean asks eventually, breaking the silence. He takes a spoonful of chocolate ice cream and sprinkles, enjoying the richness of it. Jeremy looks at him in surprise, but Jean doesn’t back down from his curiosity. “I know it wasn’t me,” he finally looks down to his sweet. “I know I don’t make any noise when I dream.”

Jean watches as the boys face hardens, and then his captain nods a couple of times. “You didn’t wake me,” he confides, takes a bite of his ice cream. “Nobody knows this,” he says eventually, looking Jean in the eyes. Jean isn’t sure what makes the boy look so good in that moment- the moon? The fluorescent lights? God? Jean doesn’t think he’ll ever know, but he feels sick thinking about it. He can’t even admit he and the boy are friends, and it’s obvious the boy is in pain, and he has to have selfish thoughts. He hates himself. He has to look down. He doesn’t like eye contact, even if he wants Jeremy to look him in the eyes for the rest of his life. “But, my mom is sick. Been sick for nearly two years. It’s really bad. Sometimes I wake up and realize that she could die at any time. I considered not coming back to school, but she wouldn’t hear it.”

Jeremy’s honesty does something to his chest. His painful admission makes Jean want to throw himself into action to help, but he doesn’t respond, because Jeremy hasn’t said anything yet. He’s staring at something over Jeans shoulder.

“I guess I’m just having a hard time with the reality of it,” he finally says, and then he slides his eyes into Jeans. 

“Me too,” Jean whispers after an eternity, but he’s looked away again, staring at his ice cream.

There’s silence, and then Jeremy coughs, which Jean guesses was a ploy to get his attention. “You can talk to me about the nest, if you want to,” he finally says, bringing one of his knees up to his chest.

Jean thinks about it, and then he shrugs. He knows that Renee told him to confide in Jeremy, and he desperately wants to. But he doesn’t want to give the boy more than he can handle. He takes in a deep breath. “I know you probably think you have some idea about what went on,” he says eventually, eyes darting all over the table. “But you don’t.”

He says that because he hears Riko laughing, but it isn’t sadistic. He has to look away.

“If you tell me, I can try to understand,” Jeremy suggests apprehensively.

“I never want you to understand,” Jean says before he can stop himself. He is looking Jeremy in the eyes, and he himself flinches with the brutal honesty. It’s true, he thinks. He never wants Jeremy to understand what went down, because the only way to understand it is to live through it. Jean thinks he would rather die than for Jeremy to live through the nest. Light never makes it in the nest, and Jeremy may be the brightest star of all. “I mean that….” he struggles, and then he takes another bite of ice cream, searching for the word. “Nicely.”

Jeremy smiles, but it looks like he’s sad. That won’t do.

“What was it like growing up?” Jean asks him. “You know, here, in the states.”

Jeremy seems happy to change the subject. “It was great, where I’m from. I’m from San Jose,” he tells Jean, but Jean already knew that. He looked up every piece of information he could find of Jeremy Knox before he arrived. “It’s a nice place to grow up. I love it there. It’s just me, my mom and my twin sister. My dad left when I was fourteen,” he says, and then he finishes off his last bite of ice cream. “It’s not bad. My mom and him have a good relationship, but it was hard to acclimate to it, you know. But, my dad took me to my first exy game, and he’s the one that taught me to love the sport. He lives in Idaho, now, working for the national park. He’s a good man,” he eventually settles. “What about you? Was it hard to get used to it here?”

Jean thinks, and he eventually nods. He thinks about how to phrase it- he can’t say when I was sold, because that gives away more than Jeremy knows. “When I got here,” he says instead, “I didn’t know english. I was taken in by Master,” he flinches, and then looks away. “I was taken in by Tetsuji when I was a very young. Riko didn’t speak to me until I learned english, but Kevin learned french for me,” he says, finishing his ice cream. “I have to be honest with you,” he brings his nail to his mouth. His tongue and teeth are cold from the combination of the ice-cream and the wind, and his thumb is warmer than he had expected. “I have few happy memories, and the ones I do have, I can’t speak on,” he settles, looking at Jeremy. The boy looks different from earlier that night. He’s more focused now, and Jean is grateful. Any version of Jeremy is good to see, but the blurriness of him before was hard to focus on.

“Is it easier to speak french?” Jeremy asks instead.

“My head is a jumble of french, english and Japanese,” he admits, but then he nods. “But french is my favorite.”

“Do you remember France?” Jeremy asks.

“Memories I shouldn’t speak on,” Jean admits.

“Why?” Jeremy asks, moving their ice cream out of the way so he can lean closer. “I know that shit goes down, and I know I can’t know everything- or, I think I can’t know everything. But I can keep a secret. The Foxes know,” he says, and Jean is startled, “so I think I can know too.”

Jean watches Jeremy, and he’s touched with the fire that rests in Jeremy’s soul. He swallows, and then he looks around, leaning forward. He wishes he could fall in the fire that Jeremy creates with his passion, to be enveloped in it and disappear. His arm is touching Jeremy’s, and their breaths, tinged with strawberry and chocolate, intermingle in a way that’s not so disgusting. 

“I can’t say,” Jean says, his voice full of the torture he’s endured. “But what I can say is this: being around you, being around the Trojans, it’s, it’s opening my eyes. Winning the games we have, without a single card, it’s been hard, but I’m impressed,” he smiles to Jeremy. “I enjoy being on your team, even though I don’t think I’ll ever really be a piece of it.”

“You already are,” Jeremy says immediately. “You are more of a Trojan than you think you are. I know Ravens, maybe not as well as you, but I know you aren’t one of them. You are as much a Trojan as I am.”

Jean doesn’t call bullshit because he agrees to pretend for a moment that he is like Jeremy. He never will be, he knows that. He knows that he may “be a Trojan” but he will never really be one. He knows the small, slight differences, even if Jeremy doesn’t. He nods, though, in thanks. He still can’t voice how much he wants to, but he thinks the night at the parlor has been progress. He thinks Jeremy feels the same.

“Hey, Jean,” Jeremy whispers, and Jean looks up. Jeremy is closer than he remembers, but he doesn’t move. “What are you going to do over break?”

Jean laughs. He’s never had the option to do anything of the sort, but he knows he has no home to return to. He thinks about Kevin and Renee, and then he looks up to the stars.

“I think I’d like to visit Kevin,” he admits. “He’s an asshole, but he’s the only thing that closely resembles family to me. Unfortunate,” he leans forward to play with what is left of his melted ice cream. 

“He’s not the only family you have,” Jeremy says, and Jean chooses not to react. “Why don’t you come with me? To my place for Christmas? I don’t know if you’ve ever really celebrated it, but my mom goes all out, and my sister brings friends home with her all the time.”

Jean stops playing with his ice cream at the word, and he eyes Jeremy. “Is that what you consider me, Jeremy? A friend?”

He doesn’t ask with any particular tone, and he doesn’t ask with his usually sardonic smirk. In fact, he tried to be as nonchalant as he was able to be, but he can tell that Jeremy is surprised. Jean doesn’t react to the boys surprise, and instead tilts his head. 

“I have trouble with the word,” he admits to Jeremy, and Jeremy softens a little. “I don’t even consider Kevin a friend.”

“What about Renee?” he asks. Jeremy looks concentrated, as if he has finally seen something.

That is the question. Jean shrugs. “I don’t think I can call Renee a friend either. She’s more than that. Maybe confidant. I’m not sure. Friend is a difficult word for me. It always has been. Even before America.”

“Well,” Jeremy looks up to the sky, as if praying for words to fall out of his mouth. “Well, Jean, I’m your friend, okay? I’m your friend.”

Jean feels something burst in his chest, but it doesn’t feel good. It feels as though every single one of his ribs have been snapped in half. He knows this is a good moment, logically, but all he can think about is Riko and Kevin. Somehow Neil sneaks his way in, as well. The Perfect Court. He doesn’t think as he touches the tattoo. He knows exactly where it is at. He doesn’t look at Jeremy as he does so, but as soon as he realizes what he’s doing, he drops his hand.

“Okay,” Jean says tentatively. Jeremy smiles to him. “Okay,” Jean repeats.

“Is that okay?” Jeremy asks. Jean looks at him again. There is a combination of emotions written on his face. Jeremy looks worried that he crossed a boundary, which, Jean is surprised to realize, the boy hasn’t. He’s been conscious of how Jean feels towards certain things and has refrained from breaking his comfort. 

“Maybe,” Jean whispers, because he just isn’t ready to be vulnerable. The answer he gave doesn’t appear to be the best answer, considering how Jeremy’s shoulder droop and his eyes fall down to the table. Jean sighs through his nose. “I’m sorry you aren’t making as much progress with me as you wish you were.”

“This isn’t about my progress,” Jeremy says delicately, like string. “I consider you a friend, Jean. We just had our first real conversation since you’ve been here, and I’ve invited you to my house for Christmas. If you don’t see me as a friend yet, then I can accept that. You being here has never and will never be about me,” Jeremy points his finger to his own chest, making a point. “Do you understand?”

Jean feels as though he is at a lost for words. He never meant to make it sound as though Jeremy saw him as a project, though he did think that once. He nods to Jeremy, though it’s disconnected and not as enthused as he’s sure Jeremy wants it to be. Jean instead, thinks about his words; Jean has felt passion before, with speeches before games, or with Renee’s pep talks, but he doesn’t think he’s ever felt this way before. Jeremy speaks as if it should be so, and who is Jean to disagree? Besides, there is little room for argument. Jeremy controls his audience in a way that Jean envies, but not so much that he is angry. 

“I do need to visit Kevin,” Jean admits, because he does. The knives are important, and he and Kevin need to deal with them soon. Jeremy nods at that.

“Of course. I can come with you.”

“Oh,” Jean says, and then he straightens. “You don’t… you don’t have to. Visiting Kevin also means visiting Andrew, and by extension that means Neil. Who knows what other Fox will be there.”

“I like Kevin,” Jeremy says, his voice full of the power of persuasion. “I haven’t been around Andrew and Neil enough to really get to know them-”

“A burden you will never have to bare,” Jean says at once. 

“No, Jean,” Jeremy says, his voice sprinkled with laughter that is at once captivating and wondrous. “Jean, if you are going, I want to go with you.”

Jean doesn’t know what do with that, since he feels like the world has tilted, so instead he rolls his eyes. “If you come, it is your own fault if something goes wrong,” Jean says, though he knows that even he would fight Andrew off if that meant Jeremy would be protected. He knows, logically, that Andrew would have little reason to be harsh with Jeremy- anybody would have little reason to be harsh with him. He’s too… Jean couldn’t think of any word besides pure.

“Nothing will go wrong,” Jeremy assures him. “They’re your friends, so I’m sure it’ll be fun.”

“We just went over this,” Jean responds, leaning back in the chair and even propping his feet up on the table. “I have no friends, least of all a Fox.”

“Ah,” Jeremy says with a quiet voice. “I forgot. We were just being so friendly.”

Jean hears him snigger, but there’s something that pulls at his heart. He wants to just tell Jeremy that they are friends, but he can’t be sure they are. He takes in a breath. He doesn’t want to burden Jeremy with the weight of being his friend, because he knows he has baggage galore. 

“Out of curiosity, though,” Jeremy asks, leaning closer than he already was, “What would you call Kevin?”

Jean thinks of millions of derogatory and offensive words, in french, english and Japanese. He doesn’t feel dirty enough to tell them to Jeremy, so instead he tries to think in niceties. He’s reminded of the last time he saw Kevin, there at the airport, and he has to swallow something thick. He sees Jeremy’s face change, as if he is expecting a turn of bad behavior, or harsh words. Or, perhaps, he saw the seriousness that Jean found himself in. 

Jean clears his throat. “Frère.”

“What does that mean?” Jeremy asks. He sounds genuinely curious, and Jean finally looks up to him to see his expression matches his tone. Jean licks his lips, and then looks around, trying to think of an explanation.

“Brother,” he tells Jeremy shortly. “The way we were raised,” he begins, reaching for his three, thinking of Riko and Kevin both, “we were supposed to trust each other, on and off the court. We may have had different rankings, but,” he swallowed. “Still,” he shrugs, feeling the emptiness reach his chest, encapsulating him in the moment. “I don’t know how to explain Kevin better than that we are frères.”

Jeremy smiles a little, but it’s not full of the happy emotion he usually radiates. “Riko, also?”

Jean feels out of breath, and he looks away. The reason it hurts so much is because— yes, even Riko was his brother. Though he may have ripped Jeans body apart in more than one way, Jean still trusted him to make the right calls. He was raised to trust Riko, and though he may have had his flares of rebellion, he did trust Riko. He thinks about the closed coffin, and then shifts his weight from side to side in the chair.

“Riko also,” Jean answers in a whisper.

“I know it’s a complicated story,” Jeremy says, his voice stronger than Jean feels, “but I am sorry that Riko is dead. I know it affects you.”

Jean stares Jeremy in the eyes like they aren’t separated by their different life experiences. He looks at Jeremy like he’s capable of feeling something soft, when he is nothing but roughness and rage. He looks at Jeremy like he is happy to be alive.

“You’re the only one to tell me sorry that knows it’s not so black and white,” he admits. “Maybe it is black and white,” Jean shrugs, “and I’m just delusional, but I still,” he wants to say thank you so bad, but he feels the vulnerability creeping up on him like a monster in the night, or his nightmares. “I appreciate it,” he says instead. He adds a sharpness that perhaps wasn’t there before. 

He pushes away the thought of Jeremy seeing him. He thought he would never be seen again.

 

They made it back to the apartment in complete silence, though it was comfortable. Before there were accidental brushes, but now it’s full of purpose as their arms press against each other. Jean pretends that it’s because of the cold, but he thinks they just might like the closeness between them. He sneaks a look at Jeremy, and the cold has made him blush.

When they get inside, it’s a quarter past four. Jean takes a look at the bedroom the two of them share, and then looks to Jeremy, who is holding his eyes as well. They both make their way slowly to the couch. Neither one of them are tired despite the little sleep they had gotten, and though they know they will regret it earlier in the day, they don’t care. On the couch, they both lean back, and even though Jeremy stretches his legs out, Jean keeps his to his chest.

“Jean,” Jeremy whispers, and Jean doesn’t miss the weight of weariness that is over him. “Jean, if you could have any super power, what would you have?”

Jean smirks, and then he focuses. He knows what his answer is, and has known since even before Jeremy could finish his question. He pretends to think about it though, and he doesn’t pay any mind to the way Jeremy stares at him with his sleepy eyes. It’s dark in the room, but the night has lit it up and soon the morning will too.  
“Invisibility,” Jean tells him. “What about you?”

“Speed,” Jeremy admits. “I always loved the Flash growing up.”

Jean has never read a comic book in his life, but he doesn’t want to tell him so. Instead, he nods, something distant.

“Why are you best friends with Alvarez and Laila?” Jean asks before he can even process that he has a question. He thinks Jeremy will shrug or give him an odd look, but instead, the boy takes the question seriously.

“Different reasons,” Jeremy tells him. “Alvarez doesn’t let me stay too serious, because sometimes I get to focused on something and I forget about everything else. Laila reminds me of my sister, and she even treats me like a brother. It’s familiar. We all laugh together and cry together. I guess when it comes down to it, you can’t really choose your best friends, they’re just meant for you to find.”

“And you found them here?” Jean asks.

“I found them here, when we were all fresh meat. Alvarez was gone on Laila the second they met, but they didn’t get together until a year and half later. I guess I liked to be a part of that, also. Their getting together.”

They’re silent, then, and Jean makes the conscious decision to stretch his legs out, mingled with Jeremy’s. Jeremy doesn’t seem to mind, and is even pleased. He hums a little bit, and Jean remembers his mother.

“I’m an older brother,” he tells Jeremy, and the boy stares at him in waiting. Jean doesn’t know how to explain it. “I don’t know her name, or where she is, or what she’s like, or any of that,” he goes on, “I just remember her in a bundle of pale pink blankets. Her eyes were grey, and her hair was dark,” Jean twists his vision away from staring at Jeremy and reminisces of a dead past. “I don’t know if I love her or not, because we don’t know each other. But I do think of her often. She probably doesn’t even know I exist.”

“Would you,” Jeremy begins, and then he clears his throat. “Would you like to meet her?”

“I don’t know,” Jean admits. “I think since I left, my family has had a much easier life, and I don’t want to jeopardize that. Besides,” he laughs, but it is full of melancholy and longing, “I don’t think I’m allowed to see my family, even if the King is dead,” he whispers. He knows he’s said too much, but he finds that he doesn’t regret it. Instead he smiles to Jeremy, and it’s a real one. He’s not showing his teeth, but it’s still genuine. Jeremy sighs and smiles softly back.

“I like being around you, Jean,” Jeremy lets out a breath of his mixture of dazed sleepiness and contentment. “Even when you’re moody, I like to be around you.”

Jean tries to calm his heart, but there is no controlling an untamed beast, even if it is caged. He smiles to Jeremy instead, again, and then leans his head back on the couch. He can see that Jeremy’s eyes are beginning to droop, and even if they can only sleep for an hour or two, it doesn’t matter. Jeremy’s eyes flutter shut, and then his breathing becomes rhythmic and Jean watches him for a few moments more, before his eyes begin to droop, too. “I like to be around you, too,” he whispers to Jeremy, though the boy is already long gone in his slumber.


	6. returned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I know this is a stupid promise to make, but I’m gonna make it anyways. I’ll never let another soul harm you.”

“Focus, Moreau,” Laila says, massaging her forehead. Alvarez is by her side, wearing a smirk, her feet settled onto their shared kitchen table. Laila usually would swat and worry over Alvarez and her messes, but today she seems too focused on Jean to pay attention to her lovers feet. Laila leans forward, her hands splayed out on the table as she stares at him. “You’ve asked for my help, and you aren’t even benefiting from it! I’m giving you my time!”

“Calm down, honey,” Alvarez laughs, but it’s only just a bit. She is looking over the scene fondly, as she usually does when Laila is present. “The boy is new to it all. It was only introduced an hour ago.”

“An hour, and no progress,” Laila reminds Alvarez, but she seems to have calmed. 

“There is too many of them,” Jean says, his hands out as he tries to explain. “I’ve never been good with names.”

Laila slides a photo forward. Jean inspects the picture. It’s a small, brunette girl with a toothy grin. Her hair is in a braid that’s incredibly messy and her eyes are wide. It’s obviously a school picture, and she’s smiling so hard she looks like she’s going to pass out. She’s adorable, despite the stress she’s exerting to look her best for the photograph. 

“Well?” Laila sighs, staring at him. “Tell me her name!”

Jean feels his head fall back before he even realizes he’s doing so. He lets out a groan of boredom, and he’s embarrassed to find he’s extremely frustrated. He can’t remember the toothy girls name, but he’s sure he heard Laila shout it at him just moments before. 

“Come on!” Laila orders. “Jeremy taught her how to ride her bike. She calls every weekend!”

“So do nine of the others!” Jean says, laughing just a little bit in his exasperation. 

“Her name is Sophie,” Alvarez whispers.

Laila pushes Alvarez for her betrayal, almost toppling the girl out of her seat. Even though Jean flinches at the sudden movement, he’s smiling just a tad. He’s relaxed the past few months as a Trojan. He examines them for the moment- Alvarez and Laila’s banter is unique in the way where they’re able to show everyone around them how much they mean to one another while simultaneously they are able to portray their bitchy attitudes. Jean tilts his head as Laila hits Alvarez with the stack of pictures she has of Jeremy’s various family members. 

“You know, when I asked for your help,” Jean begins after the tantrum, leaning forward onto the table, gripping his head, “I wasn’t really picturing this in a good-cop, bad-cop style investigation.”

“Am I the good-cop?” Alvarez asks.

“When you asked for help, I figured you would be able to remember at least one name!”

“I can remember Laura.”

“That’s because she has Jeremy’s eyes,” Alvarez tells Laila. Her voice is laced with a thousand meanings that Jean doesn’t want to decipher. He feels his face heat up, but he glares all the same, hoping to look a little more irritated than flushed.

“No,” Jean finally says. “Jeremy mentions his sister all the time.”

Laila laughs, and then shakes her head. “It’s besides the point.” She then starts to set out the pictures, and Jean begins to rub his head. “Okay, to be fair, some of these you don’t need to know. These are the regular guests for the Christmas celebration at the Knox residence, but not all of them are Must Remembers.”

“Okay,” he clears his throat and then brings both of his hands to his lap, squeezing them together. “Who are the Must Remembers?”

“The nine you mentioned earlier, the ones that call, and then some of the aunts and uncles,” Laila says, pointing to each of the pictures. “I’m going to point at them and say their names, and you have to remember, do you understand?”

Jean nods, and feels the determination rise up in his chest. He watches as Laila points, and calls out names, and he tries to keep up. The few put out in front of him are a step up from the thirty-seven from before. He scratches the back of his neck in anticipation.

“Okay,” Laila says, pointing at one of them. “Who is he?”

“Emilio?” Jean asks.

“Yes!” Laila rises, smiling. “Yes, yes! Okay, okay, one down.”

 

When Jeremy returns back to the apartment, Jean’s just beginning to doze off from his weariness on the couch. He isn’t as scared by the suddenness of Jeremy as he used to be. Instead, he barely reacts. He smiles to the boy, who looks sleepy from his classes, though there is an urgency in his shoulders. He looks tired and worn. He also looks a little on edge. After all, they have a plane to catch in a couple of hours.

Jeremy stops when he makes eye contact with Jean, and he softens. Whatever tension was in his shoulders disappears in an instant. “Hi,” he says after a moment, and he drops his bag to the floor. He leans over and lights a candle, signaling the fact that he’s trying to relax. “How was your day with the girls?”

Jean rolls his eyes, and his smile grows when he hears Jeremy laugh. “How was class?” Jean asks after a few moments.

“Boring,” Jeremy finally admits, and then he saunters over to where Jean lays. Jean tries not to look as surprised as he is when Jeremy takes a spot on the floor, near his face, instead of holing up on the chair next to him. “We leave soon.”

“I’m well aware,” Jean says, burying himself further into the comforts of the couch. 

“Are you not excited?” Jeremy asks delicately.

“I am,” he answers, perhaps too quickly. “I just. I want to remember all the names. Laila was drilling me earlier.”

Jeremy laughs, and then Jean feels his hand brush along his arm. Chills erupt from the spot, but Jean just relaxes into the touch. “Hypocritical, considering she could hardly remember their names.”

“Remind me of that the next time I see her.”

Jeremy smiles faintly, then he settles his chin on the couch, and Jean can feel his Captain’s breath on his arm. “Wake me in forty-five minutes, okay?” he whispers.

Jean nods, but then he looks at Jeremy’s odd position. It’s too late to tell the boy to take his place- Jeremy has already fallen into unconsciousness, and he’s breathing gently. Jean looks around the room and then rolls his eyes at himself. 

Jean knows he’s a strong figure; exy made him strong, but so did fighting. Sometimes there were brawls within the nest, when Riko didn’t want do anything and simply wanted to watch the others rip everyone to pieces. Jean picks Jermey up and makes sure he’s in a comfortable position before finding Jeremy’s own spot on the floor, settling in and waiting for the now forty-three minutes to pass.

 

When Jean and Jeremy arrive to the house, Jeremy is gleaming and radiating with joy. Whatever sleepiness that had been on him is gone- he was in his element. The house itself is in a nice neighborhood, a two story, and it’s surrounded by a cluster of trees. It smells like pine, which explains why Jeremy so likes the smell- they have pine scented candles all over the apartment.

“Welcome home,” Jean tells Jeremy, picking up both of their bags. His captain smiles to him, and then grasps his shoulder, giving it a momentary squeeze. He can see that Jeremy is wanting to sprint inside. “Go ahead. I can pay the driver and grab your things.”

Jeremy looks flabbergasted. “No, I’m going to introduce you. I’m not sidelining you, not now, not ever.”

Jean feels warm, even though all around them it is freezing. He thinks that he may look like a snowman- even though he’s gained a small tan from the sun in the months he’s been in California, it’s mostly been burns. At least he is not as pale as he once was, or so the girls tell him.

Jeremy grabs his bag from Jeans hand, and Jean tries not to pay too much attention to the way Jeremy’s pointer finger slides over his own. Jean is wearing gloves, even though his fingers break through, and Jeremy is wearing none- the skin on skin contact that is just with the touch of the finger can make him feel crazy. He shakes it off and tries to remember how cold he is.

The second they walk through the door, Jean feels an overwhelming presence of care that he had never experienced before. He feels like he’s going to fall into a shock almost immediately- there’s pictures all over the entry way, some with Jeremy and some without. They are all painted with toothy grins and tight embraces. Some are of award ceremonies, for both athletics and academics. The house is covered in soft browns and oranges, and he already feels warm. Whatever is being prepared for dinner smells like heaven, and Jean blushes when his stomach growls. Jeremy drops his bag by the stairs, so Jean follows his lead.

“Mom?” Jeremy calls out, undoing the scarf around his neck. His face is bright, and slightly pink from the cold outside. The room they’ve entered has a tree in the middle, with few presents under the tree- Jean guesses that even though Christmas is three days away, they haven’t finished wrapping. He watches as Jeremy takes in a deep breath. “I’m home!”

“Jerebear!” 

Like lightning, she appears and makes her grand entrance. Jean recognizes the girl that attacks Jeremy into a hug as Laura, his twin sister. They almost look exactly alike, but the height is an obvious difference- she is just a few inches shorter than her brother, but Jean knows she can still demand the same attention as Jeremy. Jeremy has scarcely mentioned the many bar brawls that Laura has been a part of, and Jean is impressed with her immediately.

When Jeremy sets her down, Jean tries not to disappear. He puts on the smile he wears for the press. He knows it’s fake, but he’s trying so hard to be real. He wants desperately to be liked by Jeremy’s family, especially Laura. He knows that the girl holds a special place in her brothers heart. She is sizing him up, almost as Alvarez did that day at the airport, so long ago.

“Jean Moreau,” she announces, before he can attempt to form his name. He smiles to her and nods. “Jere has told me all about you!” Jean doesn’t show how much that stresses him out. One part of him doesn’t want to know what Jeremy has said about him, while the other feels giddy over the fact that Jermey has talked to his sister about him. Instead of paying either thing any mind, he grasps her offered hand and laughs a little.

“Jeremy has mentioned you twice as much,” he tells her. “It’s good to meet you.”

She smiles to him, and then turns to Jeremy. “Mom is making our favorite. Hope your frenchman likes it,” she winks, and Jean ignores the way Jeremy slightly reddens, because he is almost positive he is the same shade.

“Chilaquiles in thirty?” he asks after a few seconds.

“Chilaquiles now, actually. Mom is just making desert,” she nods, and then she smiles to Jean. “She made homemade ice cream. She read about it on Pinterest or something.”

Jean stares at the walls he passes as the three of them make their way to the kitchen, to where Ms. Knox is busy making her Pinterest-found ice cream. Jean tries not to laugh at how oddly familiar the scene is- she’s just like Jeremy is when he’s making food. She dances just like he does, blaring the loud music in a way that Jean’s sure Jeremy wishes he could. He wouldn’t mind if Jeremy danced more freely.

“Mom!” Jeremy yells over the music, smiling widely as the woman jumps. She turns fast, and then squeals with excitement. 

“My baby!” she smiles, turning the music down and then throwing herself into her sons arms. She is a petite woman, smaller than both her children. Her face a splatter of natural beauty and youthfulness even though her children are in their twenties. Her hair is an obvious wig, dark. Jean guesses she lost her hair from whatever ailment she has. Other than the wig though, she is the picture perfect form of health and radiance. Her eyes are shining with tears, and Jean wonders what it’s like to care so deeply for another human being. He pinches his palm to make sure he isn’t dreaming of being there, in that house. 

It’s not a very sudden memory, but it creeps on him like the devil. His holidays at the nest were never this sweet, never this warm. He hardly noticed the holiday seasons. He’s overwhelmed by the toxicity of the place; the realizations of how life was really supposed to be lived had been sneaking up on him in moments like that. Every time he found Alvarez playing Wii, found Lila tending to her flower bouquets, or heard Jeremy’s unadulterated laugh, he was drowned in the understanding of love and peacefulness. He loved simplicity more and more each day, even though Jeremy was anything but simple; he was a complex soul, so complex Jean knew he would never understand, but would be willing to spend the rest of his life trying to. He shook his head so as to shake the thoughts away.

Ms. Knox smiles at Jean, and Jean feels himself giving her a real smile. “Ms. Knox, I’m Jean Moreau. Thank you for-”

Ms. Knox surprised no doubt everyone in the room as she put her arms around Jean, almost in the same motherly way she did with Jeremy. He knew that Jeremy was watching him, and had tensed up at the contact. Jean has never been very comfortable with touches- the light ones him and Jeremy shared were just that. Alvarez and Laila both were careful with their touches, even though sometimes they did cross lines Jean wasn’t ready for. But the feeling of someone so close to him, pushing their body against his- it surprised him that it didn’t feel bad. It wasn’t necessarily good, but it wasn’t bad. He guesses that it’s because he knows the woman has no malicious intent; but he also knows that Jeremy is watching to step in. Ever the guard.

He carefully wraps his own arms around the woman, and gives her a careful squeeze before he releases her. She beams up at him, her smile glowing. “I know who you are, and I’m thrilled to meet you. And drop Ms. Knox. Call me Carmen.”

He clears his throat while he readjusts to being not-touched. “Thank you for letting me invade your holidays,” he jests, and she shakes her head to him in a hurry.

“No, no- I’m thrilled you’re here to join us,” she winks, and then she turns back to Jeremy, who seems relaxed and is even smiling at Jean a little. “Honey,” she catches his attention, “why don’t you two get settled into your rooms before you eat? And then you can tell me all about your classes!”

Jeremy nods enthusiastically to his mother, and then leans over to kiss her cheek. “I missed you, too, mom.” Jean follows after Jeremy, leaving Laura with her mother in the kitchen. When they return back to where they had set their bags down, shrouded in privacy, Jeremy takes his arm carefully into his hand. Jean doesn’t flinch, but he does startle slightly. Jeremy releases him immediately, but Jean just smiles to him. “No, no,” he whispers. “I’m fine.”

“I know you aren’t used to being touched like that,” he says after a few seconds. “I can tell her if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“Jeremy,” Jean whispers again, shifting on his feet. He wishes he could make the boy understand that sometimes he was honest about being fine. It’s his own fault for lying the majority of the time, he realizes, but he’ll never give Jeremy the satisfaction by telling him so. “I didn’t mind. It was nice.”

He looks up from his shoes to watch Jeremy react, and he’s disturbed by how profoundly beautiful his captain is. Jeremy is smiling in an easy type of way that makes Jean’s heart feel uncontrollably erratic. He feels a swell of strong admiration for the boy. It’s deep- maybe he’s just now realizing that he is allowed to be soft even though he never has been. Maybe he can be soft with Jeremy- maybe not with many others, but Jeremy is a ray of light in a world so cold and broken that he feels compassion drowning him.

“Hey,” he clears his throat of whatever longing he feels, “can I call you Jerebear?”

Jeremy laughs, and the seriousness that had settled dissipated. Jean feels a constriction in his chest relax once he hears Jeremy laugh, and he even smiles a bit himself. “C’mon, I’ll show to your room. I’m sure you’re excited to finally get back in a private space.”

Jean doesn’t want to tell him that he’s never slept alone in a room before. He’s never had one all to himself; he always was sharing with another Raven. He tries to relax at the thought of being alone for an entire night- he knows that he shouldn’t be afraid of being alone, because he’s far away from harm, but it still makes him feel slightly nervous. Besides, he’s sure that Jeremy is tired of rooming with him too- the boy needs his privacy, especially after having to deal with a boy like him for the past couple of months. Jean carefully touches his chest and thinks that maybe it won’t be too bad- finally being able to sleep without worrying Jeremy will see his scars or finally waking from the nightmare that sends him into a panic attack. He can sleep as uncomfortably as he needs- or maybe not at all.

 

Jean was hoping that dinner was going as good as he thought it was. He’s sitting next to Ms. Knox- who has told him nearly a thousand times to call her Carmen- and Laura. Jean is enjoying himself, surprisingly, though he isn’t sure he’s doing a good job at selling it. He halfheartedly wishes that his resting, amused, and grumpy face didn’t look almost identical. 

“So Jeremy has had to have stitches twelve times?” Jean asks, smiling as much as he can without his cheeks hurting. He is feeling a rush of fondness by watching Jeremy roll his eyes, so it makes the smile easier. He isn’t really surprised by the amount of times Jeremy has ended up in the emergency room, but he is curious. “What happened to make you so reckless?”

“The majority of the accidents weren’t my fault,” he smiles, his voice filled with a charm that Jean has come to know is natural. Jeremy is used to intentionally or unintentionally sweeping people off their feet, even if they are his mother and sister. It’s why he does so well in interviews. He knows how to hold control over the people present, as well as spark curiosity and awe. “Four of the stitches were exy related-”

“No,” Laura shakes her head, bringing her knees to her chest. “Tell him in chronological order. Makes it easier to follow,” she smirks, winking to Jean.

“Okay, okay,” Jeremy says, his voice still tinged with laughter. “First time, I slipped on a rug and had to have stitches on my forehead. Then I got scratched by a cat. I ran into a tree when I was seven… hm, oh, I got punched in the face- by Laura. Exy injury. I got bit by a dog. Exy injury again. I slipped in the bathroom and rammed by head into the sink- had to get stitches on my forehead again. I was trying to get a baseball from our neighbors yard when I was thirteen and I slipped on the fence, so I had to get stitches on my arm. Exy again. I bit my lip- I don’t even remember if there is a backstory, I think I just zoned out and chomped too hard. And then exy, again. But here I am, right as rain,” he smiled.

“Have you had to get stitches?” Laura asks Jean conversationally. 

Jean knows it’s a simple question, but it sends his mind back to Riko’s collection. Instead of causing a scene he nods. “Backliners have it rough,” he tells her, hoping it answers her question. He slides his eyes back to Jeremy, who is watching him carefully as ever. “What about you, Ms. Knox?” he asks, and she rolls her eyes.

“Jean, please, it’s Carmen. And yeah, I’ve had to get a few- mostly because I was running around trying to prevent these two knuckleheads from injury,” she smiles sweetly. “Didn’t do any of us any good.”

“I think it did you good,” Laura nods to her, leaning over to pick at the little left on her plate. “Kept your blood pumping.”

He watches as Jeremy swallows hard. Jean knows that Ms. Knox is sick with something, but she seems to be doing fine. He hopes that Jeremy will be able to relax after seeing his mom laughing and smiling- but the little comments that were made regarding her health, her bodily functions or just her wellbeing in general, set Jeremy on edge. 

“My two little devils,” Ms. Knox cooed with delight. “I love you both. And I’m so happy you’re home for the holidays.”

“Ditto,” Laura chimed in.

Laura and Jeremy volunteered to do the dishes, and bantered back in forth until they disappeared back into the kitchen. Jean was left with Ms. Knox so that Jermey could enjoy his time with his sister, and he was worried about the atmosphere. However, it was made clear almost instantly that there was no need to worry. She took a sip of her drink and then leaned back, taking a deep breath in. Jeremy and Laura’s voices were just a buzzing noise now.

“I’m glad Jeremy has you,” she says abruptly. Jean quirks his head, even though he knows that Ms. Knox can’t see him. She is smiling in a careful sort of way, her eyes on the ceiling. “It’s so easy for him to be lonely. He likes to be alone. But with you, he talks about you constantly,” she turns to him, and slowly reaches across the table to hold his hand. Jean doesn’t react to the touch, but instead focuses on what she has to say. “Jeremy is happier now that he has you. Laila, Alvarez, and the rest of your team are joys that I love, but none of them mean the same to him like you do. You make him better.”

“Ms. Knox,” Jean says after a few moments, and then he looks down at their hands. “It’s not me. Jeremy has always been the best in every piece of his life.” He knows he is right- when Jeremy speaks, when he plays exy, when he consoles, when he guesses, when he’s helping Jean with mathematical equations that will never make sense— Jeremy excels. He will always excel.

She smiles at his answer, and then shakes her head just slightly to give him the negative. Then, she peels her hand away from his to cup her cheek. She’s leaning forward, admiring him. “I don’t disagree that Jeremy is the best thing since sliced bread. But, I will say that he is getting better and better every second he knows you.”

Jean is about to open his mouth to rebuke her statement- there is no way that he, of all people, could make someone- especially if that someone is Jeremy Knox- better. He’s crumpled, lonely, and broken. There’s no way for him to make someone feel whole, even if he wishes he could fill that gap in Jeremy for the rest of his life. But Jeremy walks in before he can respond to the woman, or even fully understand the thoughts and feelings that posses him, smiling at the sight of Jean with his mother, and then he gestures towards the door.

“Hey,” he says after a second. “You want to take a walk?”

 

Jean steps into the cold, and feels rejuvenated. He likes the blistering of it, because it makes him more focused and awake. He takes in a deep breath, smelling the pine once again, and then pulls on a black beanie. Jeremy is next to him, decked out in blues. He looks beautiful in the snow, with the slight darkness that surrounds them. 

“Where to?” Jean asks instead. He is startled with the realization that he doesn’t care where they are going, so long as they are side by side. Jeremy smiles at him and then shakes his hair a little bit, like he’s trying to settle it, before sliding on blue beanie. He gestures vaguely ahead of them before giving the backliner a small, precise smirk.

“Surprise.”

Jean rolls his eyes at the boy, but he follows him despite his smugness. While Jean would be content to spend the walk in silence, he instead looks to the boy and feels his tongue beg for questions. He clears his throat.

“How do you like being home?”

“I love being home,” Jeremy tells him almost at once. “It is hard, though, but… It’s okay.”

Jean understands him, and he brushes his own arm against the other boys for reassurance. “I like your family very much,” he tells him. “I do have to ask… do they know much about me and where I come from?”

Jeremy shakes his head. “I will only ever tell anyone if you approve. And… honestly, even I don’t know what kind of abuse you went through.”

As proof that it’s christmastime, the two of them hear cheerful music through the neighborhood. They’re stepping in the same time as christmas lights begin to turn on, and Jeremy smiles to the children making snowmen. It’s quiet for only a moment, but the moment is long and serene. Jean thinks carefully about what to say, and he even looks to his feet.

“Abuse is a weighty word,” he tells Jeremy. The other boy looks to him, silent and in waiting. He’s being patient- Jean has always known about Jeremy’s curiosity on the subject, but he has also always known about how he was willing to go through life without knowing. He brushes his arm again. “I don’t know how to say it, but I… I may be able to. To show you.”

He says that as they enter a building. Jean is almost positive it’s an open exy stadium, but nobody is present. Jeremy reacts to what he’s said and by turning and giving him a confused look. Jean looks at the other boys chest, where he knows there is not a single flaw exposed on him. He’s seen Jeremy in the locker room and offhandedly at their shared apartment enough to know that there isn’t much wrong with him- besides the fact that at times he can be too sensitive, too obnoxious, too headstrong. But even those don’t seem to bother Jean anymore. He takes in a deep breath as he grows familiar with the warmth that surrounds them, and he looks outside of the glass doors. Nobody is in sight. He looks around the building. There’s no cameras. He looks at Jeremy.

It’s slow as he pulls off his jacket, and drops it to the floor. He just stares at the boy as he peels off his black shirt, long sleeves and all. He watches as Jeremy takes in the disaster that is Jeans body- all the scars, the never healed bruises, the small bits of electrical burns. Jeremy doesn’t react very strongly, but Jean knows Jeremy very well by now- he can see the shift in his eyes from concern to complete fury. He doesn’t know why this surprises him. He tells himself it’s time to put the shirt back on, but he can’t will himself to do it. Instead, he just stares at Jeremy. 

Jeremy reaches out just a little bit, but not to touch one of Jeans scars or ruins. He takes his shoulder, and then he pulls his own body closer to Jean. In a few moments he’s inches from him. Jean can’t think, and can’t force himself to breathe. He doesn’t want to ruin anything, but for some reason he’s afraid he has by showing Jeremy his wounds. He swallows something thick and then lets something out shakily. He can’t tell if it’s a sigh or a groan. He can’t hear anything over the roar in his ears- he’s overwhelmed by a multitude of things. He’s a Trojan, he’s showing Jeremy is hurts, he’s being vulnerable, he was told he was completing someone. He flinches at the realization that this is all wrong- he was too fast with his trauma, and he goes to push his shirt back over his head. He didn’t think this through at all. But then Jeremy pulls him into his chest, and Jean is buried in Jeremy’s neck.

They don’t say anything to one another, but Jean is quick as he hugs the boy back. It’s different than with Kevin, or with Ms. Knox. This time it’s completely comfortable and nothing dreadful is wretched up in his mind. It’s in this moment he realizes how tired he is. He doesn’t want to be in war with anything, especially himself. He grips the boy tight in his arms, and he tries not to squirm when he feels Jeremy lightly tracing his back with his finger. Jean knows the place he’s messing with- a jagged cut that runs down almost his entire back. It’s messy and inexperienced- it’s from one of the first times Riko played with his toys. 

“Jean,” he whispers, his voice and breath hot on the others skin. “I know this is a stupid promise to make, but I’m gonna make it anyways. I’ll never let another soul harm you.”

Jean smiles, because nobody sees him, and even though he won’t hold Jeremy to that promise, it’s nice to live in the weight of the moment. He pulls back even though he doesn’t want to. He puts back on his shirt and doesn’t miss the way Jeremy stares at his disappearing skin. He doesn’t stop himself as he leans forward and pats Jeremy’s shoulder. He doesn’t stop himself as he smiles a very real, authentic smile. He doesn’t stop himself as he says “Thanks, Jere.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know this is probably really stupid but i'm gonna post it anyways BC i haven't posted in forever :,)


	7. fine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He thinks to release it, but Jeremy is already grasping it with all of his might.

They didn’t bring their equipment, so they just lay in the middle of the stadium, swapping stories of things they’ve done or have never done- Jean has a very long “To Be Done” list while Jeremy has a very long “Done” list. Jeremy offhandedly tells Jean how he will take him somewhere, show him something, or do something with him. It makes Jean feel something related to ethereal. He’s happy he will never have to explain his scattered thoughts to anybody. 

“Why was this place a surprise, Jere?” he asks, happy with the response he gets each time he voices his nickname. It makes Jeremy shut his eyes a little slow, as if he’s processing it. A shock each time, and it’s always followed by a small smile that Jean almost misses each time. 

“This is where I started,” Jeremy tells him, sitting up to look around. Jean follows his lead, their bodies bumping into each other as they settle, looking around the stadium from their place in the middle. Even though they could be in positions where they aren’t touching, they’ve decided against it silently. “Home of the Bulldogs.”

“You were in little league?”

Jeremy nods in answer. “I had my first game here. We lost,” he says, but it’s full of happiness. “It’s probably my favorite memory of my family. It was before the divorce, and after my game, the four of us went out to get pizza. Laura won me a stuffed bear- or, well, she stole me a stuffed bear. I, um, I still have it. That’s probably weird.”

The captain is twiddling his thumbs in embarrassment, but that’s the only sign of his anxiety. Jean smiles, and then he looks over the gym in silence, thinking of something to say, before bumping his shoulder against the other boys. “Sentiment isn’t weird.”

Jeremy looks him over, and Jean evaluates how close they are to one another. For some reason he thinks about Alvarez and Laila, teasing the two of them, and that makes him turn away, smiling a little softly.

“What?” Jeremy asks in a hushed tone, even though nobody is there. It makes Jean feel chilly and warm all at the same time.

“I was just thinking about Alvarez and Laila,” Jean tells him. He doesn’t want to go into detail, so he shrugs. “Everything they do is amusing.”

Jere laughs. “They’re sort of crazy.”

“Laura must love them.”

“Oh, don’t even get me started. That’s a party that never ends. They have a group chat that they talk about me in. How I’m eating, how my grades are,” he says in a fake-bitter tone.

“How are your grades?” Jean teases. Instead of a laugh, he gets a- dare he, Jean Moreau thinks- he gets a cute grin from his captain. It makes him feel something kin to both anger and happiness. 

“You just keep cracking jokes,” Jeremy tells him after Jean continues to stare at him blankly. “It’s making me giddy. The Jean Moreau, in the flesh, isn’t being serious.”

Jean laughs a real laugh, suddenly, and he wonders why he’s never done it before when he sees Jeremy’s reaction. The smile drops, and it’s like the captain is trying to regain composure. He swallows a little bit, and then turns his head away, collecting a deep breath. Jean wonders if he should drop it, but there’s something in the back of his mind telling him to tease still.

“What are you doing?” Jean asks through his laugh.

“I’m catching my breath,” Jeremy tells him, his voice earnest. “You just took it away.”

Jean laughs some more, because he’s found he can’t stop, but now he’s sure it’s tinged with embarrassment. He feels his face heat up and his ears are possibly pink now too. It’s a good thing Jeremy has chosen to leave him be to “catch his breath.” Jean feels the need to reach over to push Jeremy just a bit for the comment.

They sit there for a while, enjoying each others company. They know eventually they’ll have to get up, have to go back to the house. Jean isn’t upset at all- the walk home is just as serene as his time with Jeremy was. 

 

He should have known that the nighttime would be a tragedy. He doesn’t like to be alone even in the day time, but the night is worse. He continues to take in deep breaths, and every time he’s on the brink of sleep he’s thrown into a nightmare worse than the last. He sits up in rushes, periodically turns on the light and paces. He even reads some of his textbooks, hoping to grow weary, but with no such luck. He is afraid of being alone in the room. He sits across from the door, staring at it, waiting for Riko to appear to ruin him.

There is no way for all of this to be real. He’s living in some twisted reality where Riko is dead. It isn't possible. Jean is living in some alternate world where he feels satisfied with life. Jean has never felt anything like that, and Riko swore he never would, not unless he was on court bleeding his heart and soul into the game. He pukes in the trashcan of the room, and tries to ignore his own fingers messing with his neck. They remind him of Riko, and he doesn’t know why he’s desperate to feel the familiarity of it. Perhaps, he realizes, this is how life is supposed to be for him. He’s supposed to feel terror every moment, he’s supposed to be overwhelmed with the weight of the world. He claws at his neck once more.

That’s how Jermey finds him.

Jean flinches when the door opens and pinches his arm, hoping to come awake before having to see Riko, when he feels a soft hand fall on his shoulder. He immediately relaxes, because he knows Jeremys touch enough, from the squeezes, the reassurances. He opens his eyes.

“Sorry,” he says quickly. “Did I wake you up?”

Jean knows he did, but Jeremy doesn’t say so aloud. Instead, the boy, weighed down in his sleepiness, smiles in an enamored sort of way. Jean blinks away his sleep, as he has been doing for the past couple of hours. He wants to stare at Jeremy for as long as he is allowed to, until he wakes up, because there is no way that Jeremy is possible in any reality. Jean doesn’t deserve it. 

“C’mon,” Jeremy whispers, closing the door behind him. “Let’s go to bed.”

Jean doesn’t disagree or argue as he climbs into bed next to Jeremy, and he doesn’t gripe as the boy turns off the light. He faces away from Jeremy, wanting the boy to feel as comfortable as possible. He takes in a deep breath and tries to relax his body. He is still thrumming on his fear from the nightmares that plagued him in his lonesome. He’s beginning to remember who he is, and what his life is like. He cannot believe he forgot for the few hours of insanity. 

Jeremy reaches out and touches his arm, and even though Jean wants to flinch away, he recovers quickly and instead relaxes. “Sleep,” Jeremy whispers, his voice still light. “I’ll be here all night.”

Jean doesn’t know what makes him do it, but he turns towards Jeremy. He stares at him for a long instant, and the other boy stares at him too. Jean flips onto his back as he thinks, before reaching out and grasps Jeremys hand, closing his eyes as he squeezes it in thanks. He thinks to release it, but Jeremy is already grasping it with all of his might.

 

“No, no, no,” Emilio tells their group, gulping down his eggnog. He’s moving fast, as if time is of the essence. It’s almost too quick for Jean to keep up with. “Juan Pablo was the fucking worst bachelor. No question.” He lets out a terrible sigh, as if someone has slighted him. “Thinking Jake Pavelka was the worst,” he guffaws. “Sure, the guy’s a major dickhole, but it’s not even up for debate, Angelina.”

Angelina puts her hands in the air in surrender. “The breakup was nasty and so is he.”

“That’s not up for debate either,” Emilio says in a hurry, his hands animating just how much he cares about this topic. “But Juan Pablo could kiss every single ass.”

Jeremy leans over to Jean, who is holding an eggnog he has not drank. “They have this same argument every single holiday.”

“Do not,” Angelina says, throwing her hair behind her back. She points to Jean. “Okay, who do you think is the worst?”

Jean looks to Jeremy in disbelief, but his captain just laughs at him. He looks back at Angelina, who is smirking but he’s also waiting for an answer.

“I have never seen the Bachelor,” Jean admits, and he can see the sting on both Emilio and Angelina’s face.

“Never?” Emilio whispers. “Not fucking once?”

“Not once,” Jean says, and he fakes a sip of the drink he doesn’t like for the thirteenth time that day.

“That sucks cock, pal,” Emilio tells him, shaking his head. “The Bachelor is iconic. It’s always keeping me on the edge of my seat. And it can make you cry like a little bitch.”

“Emilio drinks wine while he watches it, so he cries regardless,” Jeremy tells him. 

“Sometimes the cute shit is unbearable,” Emilio says, rubbing his forehead. “Makes me realize I’ll never find love.”

“Oh, shut up,” Angelina laughs. “What about the cute girl? At the bookstore?”

Emilio immediately brightens. “I got her number, of course. I’m a skilled bastard.”

“Well, details, man,” Jeremy encourages.

“I made her some of my cake balls, and I gave them to her during our break, and she was flustered and fucking adorable, and then she gave me her number and told me to call her as soon as holidays were over so we could catch a movie.”

“You’re practically married,” Angelina told him, taking a gulp of her eggnog. “I mean, c’mon. Cake balls? Immediate in.”

“Cake balls are the perfect way to enter someones heart,” Jeremy accepts. “Especially if they’re red velvet.”

“I gave her red velvet,” Emilio says, pointing his finger to Jeremy. “But I also made her a fucking variety. Vanilla, chocolate, strawberry. I made it happen.”

“Go big or go home,” Angelina smiles, laughing a little bit at Emilio’s enthusiasm.

They’re all about to talk again about who knows what- Jean can barely keep up, but he is enjoying himself- when a little girl runs up, and Jean knows her immediately from the pictures. Sophie. She’s in a bright pink sweater and a yellow jacket. Her hair is in two braids, messy from the wind. She’s smiling to Jeremy, grasping his hand and jumping up in down.

“Come build a snowman with me, Jere! Please, please, please.”

Jeremy lets out a groan that is completely fake. Very subtly, while the girl entertains Emilio and Angelina, he reaches over and takes Jeans eggnog and hands him his own. He downs a small bit of the drink before catching his family attention again. He lets the little girl drag him away from the porch into the snow, and Jean watches with amusement and with once unattainable peace, as they begin their creation with laughs and giggles.

“Hey, good,” Emilio says as he watches a car pull up. “Hey, Luis! It’s about fucking time!”

“Language!” the entirety of the outside choruses.

Luis gets out of his car and then opens the backdoor, letting loose two little boys that immediately begin to wrestle one another. Jean remembers learning about Luis- he just recently went through a divorce and gained full custody of his two boys- Antonio and Joshua. He stares at his sons for a moment, and then shrugs, walking toward Emilio. He looks tired. He’s no more than twenty-five. “They kept me up all night and I accidentally slept in. Sue me.” He approached the three of them with a smile, evidently happy to be at the house. He takes in a deep sniff, already relaxing. “Oh, thank god. Is it almost ready?”

“You’re just in time, bro,” Emilio says.

“You look good, Luis,” Angelina tells him. “Really. How are you?”

“Peachy,” Luis says, yawning. He looks to Jean. He immediately brightens. “Hey, man. Big fan. Glad you’re working with Jere.”

Jean shakes his offered hand. “I’m glad I am too,” he tells them, and then he turns to watch Jeremy approach, a radiant smile plastered on his face as he reunites with his cousin. He barely gets a hello out before Sophie is dragging him off again. 

“What do you think about our crazy bunch?” Luis says, sitting down on the porch bench. He points his thumb back at Angelina and Emilio. “I see you’ve only been exposed to the worst of us.”

“Fuck you,” Emilio says with a cheer Jean has rarely heard with that level of obscenity.

“I’m enjoying myself very much,” Jean tells him. “Your family is incredibly kind.”

“Especially Aunt Carmen,” Angelina says, looking into the house through the windows. Jean doesn’t know what she sees, but she looks happy at the sight. “Best of the best.”

Jean is about to open his mouth to ask how the woman is really doing, since he knows that Angelina spends a lot of her time at the house to be with her while Jeremy and Laura are away at college. He’s interrupted by someone- Uncle Hector, he thinks- opening the door to announce that the food is ready.

He waits for Jeremy, and the two of them enter the house laughing along with the rest of the family. Ms. Knox is smacking away hands- a job she takes very seriously- until they can finish with praying. Jeremy is whispering with Luis, and the two of them are laughing like children. Jean doesn’t know what is being said exactly, but it makes him happy nonetheless. He likes to see Jeremy so relaxed. He has to look away, just in case anybody is watching. 

“Okay,” Uncle Hector- he knows it’s him now- says. “Take hands.”

Jean does as he’s been commanded, as does everyone else. He’s happy to be in between Laura and Jeremy, instead of someone else. He isn’t sure he’s that comfortable yet, but he can feel himself almost getting there. He tries to ignore the way Jeremy runs his fingers across his knuckles, mostly so he can focus on the smell of the food. The prayer is in Spanish, but he knows bits now. He says amen with everyone, and then they all make to pile mountains onto their plates. 

“There’s a kids room,” Emilio tells him, and then he rolls his eyes. “Even though we’re legally adults, we still have to sit in the fucking kids room,” he whispers.

“Language!” someone yells at him, and he grimaces immediately. 

“Sorry, mom,” he tells her.

Jean is sniggering just a bit because of the dynamic in the room. It’s charged with pleasant energy that he is not at all accustomed to. He looks at Jeremy, who is laughing with Luis, and he just stares for a moment. He’s overcome with dread for this to end. He doesn’t ever want to be without Jeremy, but he knows that one day they will have to go their separate ways. There’s no such thing as forever, even if he wants it so terribly.

Jeremy catches his eyes and smiles to him, but isn’t a great big smile. It’s a private one- it’s soft and careful. It has a purpose, and it is achieved- Jean feels his heart flutter and his chest swell with private bliss. Jeremy makes his way next to him, their bodies close. 

“Kids room?” Jean asks. He still feels light headed from Jeremy’s smile.

Jeremy laughs a little. “Yeah, kids room. We’ll be with the children and the oldest person in there with us will be Veronica- she’s a little much,” he whispers, but he’s grinning. “We love her anyways.”

Jean just nods, but he’s barely paying any attention to what’s going on around him. He’s mostly interested on the way Jeremy’s eyes are dancing around the room, taking in every face. Jeremy is euphoric; just looking at him makes Jean feel like he’s in seventh heaven. He’s like an oil painting- it’s impossible to explain the encompassing beauty. Jean has to rip his eyes away, and he’s overwhelmed with the feeling of wanting to be punched in the face. He’s never thought such things before, and thinking them now make him feel overcome with urgency he doesn’t want to act on.

He hates feeling something permanent when he knows it’s inevitable that he’ll be ripped away from it.

They all settle around the table, and before Jean even realizes it, they’re stuffing down the food on their plates. Jean tentatively eats his own, slower, while looking over the faces in the room. Sophie is sitting next to Jeremy, and Antonio and Joshua are sitting next to Luis. Angelina is sitting next to Emilio, who is sitting next to the girl that Jean knows as Veronica. Jean knows they are missing some of the nine people he had to memorize- Constanza and Orlando, brother and sister. 

“Where are those fuckfaces?” Emilio asks nonchalantly.

“Can you please stop cursing?” Luis says, reaching across their differences to smack the back of his head. “There are children present.”

“Sophie doesn’t care,” Emilio says, winking at her. She giggles but she’s also shaking her head at him.

“Mom says it’s not nice language.”

“Well, mom curses more than I do,” Emilio says, pointing at her as he shoves another piece of food down his mouth.

“Can you try to not eat like a donkey?” Veronica responds, rolling her eyes. Emilio leans over and chews with his mouth open. She pushes him away violently. “Nobody answered my question,” she eventually says, crossing her arms after taking a small sip. “Orlando and Constanza- where are they?”

“Probably with their mom,” Angelina says, pulling out her phone. “I’ll text ‘em.”

“So, Jean,” Veronica says, leaning forward, and Jean gives her a once over. She’s smiling at him like she wants something- it’s a look that Jean knows very well. She takes in a deep breath, as if preparing for something. “I don’t know if Jeremy’s told you, but I’m a sports reporter-”

“Uh-oh,” Emilio says, leaning back, but there is a level anticipation in his body-language. Jeremy seems on edge, and even shoots her a warning look. 

“I just wanted to ask,” she says, her hands up to show her cautiousness, “how the great number three was adjusting to becoming number two.”

Jean sends her a look, and has to remind himself that this Jeremy’s family. He settles back into the chair and stares at her.

“No,” Jeremy sends her a finger. “No interviews this week at all.”

“Is it wrong for me to be curious?” Veronica says sweetly.

“Usually, yes,” Emilio says, stealing a bit of her food.

“So, do you care to comment?” Veronica says. “And, also, there has been a lot of debate over the suicide of Riko Moriyama. Care to comment on that?”

“Rest in peace,” Jean huffs out, and then the table titters with laughter. Jeremy presses a fist against Jean’s thigh. Jean feels terrible and sick all of a sudden, but he gives Jeremy a smile anyways. He’s with Jeremy’s family, and he’ll deal with it if he has to. They make Jeremy happy, he thinks. He swallows, and then takes a bite of his food even though bile rises up.

“Really?” Veronica huffs. “He was your best friend, and this is all I’ll get? It’s nothing.”

Best friend. Jean smirks, and then pushes his food away carefully. He’s lost all of his appetite. He’s trying to think of a way to respond correctly, but Jeremy beats him to the punch.

“I invited Jean here so he could feel welcome. Not to be bombarded with questions by the biggest bitch in the family.”

Sophie gasps, and Jean stares at Jeremy, a little shocked. Emilio begins laughing immediately, and then Jean looks around. Everyone is choking on their food- something tells Jean that nobody had ever said something as harsh as that to Veronica. Always trying to stay on her good side, and here is Jeremy calmly eating his food as if he didn’t just blow away Veronica’s ego.

“Language,” Luis says after a second, a small smile still on his face.

“Excuse me?” Veronica says to him, her eyebrows high on her face, her voice incredulous. “Did you just call me a bitch?”

They all turn to Laura, making an abrupt entrance while holding a cup of coffee in her hands. “Stop that yelling immediately.” She’s pointing to each and every one of them, the devil on her side. She arches her eyebrow, and settles. “Now, what’s the drama?”

“Jeremy just called me the biggest bitch in the family!” Veronica screeches.

“The fuck did I just say about yelling?” Laura said, her finger pointing once again at Veronica. “And really, are you surprised? You have no empathy for the human race.”

“I’m very empathetic, you asshole,” Veronica sniffed.

“Well, very Merry Christmas to you and your kin,” Emilio whispers, his voice tinged with amusement. Sophie giggles again, and then leans on Jeremy’s arm.

“Hey, dad,” Joshua say, scratching the back of his head, his voice careful with curiosity. “What does fuck mean?”

Jeremy laughs, and then soon they all are. Whatever tension was on the room disappears in a matter of moments, and Jean turns to get a look at Veronica, who is looking at Jean with something familiar to guilt. He smiles to her, and then he realizes that Jeremy is still pressing his hand against his leg. He finally gives into the weight of his chest, and wraps his hand around Jeremy’s wrist, squeezing twice, before relaxing in the hold of it. Jeremy visibly calms.

Jean knows that even if the time with these people was a little crazy, it will only be worse with the foxes. He’s momentarily sorry that Jeremy is joining him, considering how much he loves being home. He knows that what Jeremy has been subjected to here is completely different from what he’ll have to deal with from the others. He braces himself, but ultimately, he knows that whatever time is spent with Jeremy is good time.

 

It’s the night before they take off for PSU, and Jean is standing outside of Jeremys door, trying to gain the courage to knock on the door. He feels stupid all of the sudden, and weighs the gift in his hand. He lifts his hand and knocks a single time before he can even realize he’s doing it.

Jeremy opens the door fairly quickly, and Jean is stunned with disbelief with his mixture of luckiness and unluckiness. Jeremy must have just gotten out of the shower, because he’s wearing sweatpants, his hair is wet and sticking to his skin. He seems just as surprised to see Jean. 

“Oh, hey,” he says, his voice tight. “I thought you were Laura. I was about to head to your room after…” he lifts his t-shirt in reference, and then carefully pulls it over his head. Jean watches as his skin disappeared from view. He picks up his eyes before Jeremy can catch his line of sight. When he is settled, he notices the thing in Jeans hand, and his eyes widen.

“Um,” Jean struggles, and then he shoves it against Jeremy, who is quick to grab at it.

Jeremy lifts it up, and then stares at Jean. “You got me something,” he states.

Jean shrugs. “Yeah, I did. Are you going to open it?”

Jeremy laughs a bit, and then gestures for Jean to come inside. Instead of sitting on the bed, he moves to sit on the floor, crossing his legs, and then he pulls something out from under his bed. He carefully hands it to Jean, who lowers himself to the ground across from Jeremy. Jeremy is weighing the thin gift in his hand, looking at it very confused. Jean wonders why he doesn’t have a clue about what it is, but he can’t really be that surprised because of his own surprise at getting a gift. He looks at his box, and then he looks back to Jeremy.

“You first,” Jeremy says eventually, smiling a little bit. 

Jean complies and rips open the paper carefully. He’s hit with a realization. “I’ve never been given a present before,” he tells Jeremy, admiring the paper. Jeremy scoots closer a look of delight written on his face.

“Well, I hope I didn’t mess anything up,” he jokes, pulling his legs up to his chest and admiring Jean. 

“I don’t think it’s possible for you to mess up,” Jean says as quietly as he can. Jeremy gleams at that, and then Jean gets a look at his first every gift. It’s the very first Harry Potter book, something Jean has never picked up. He remembers when he was younger, and he would read book after book. The Master would only give him books to read if they were informational and stimulating. He weighs it back in forth in his hands with a smile.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Jeremy begins, “it’s boring compared to the things I’m sure you’re used to reading- but it really isn’t. I got it because, well, okay, Harry Potter was pretty much my entire childhood besides exy. And well- well, you never got much of a childhood, and— I wanted to give you one.”

Jean stares at the cover of the book, and then looks up at Jeremy. He stares at him in amazement, because he can’t help it. He swallows and then feels every bit of emotion being painted with his smile. Jeremy scrunches his nose and then looks away. 

“I’ll open mine, now,” he says after a second, picking it up. Jean nods, once, carefully and then watches as Jeremy pulls the paper. Jean watches as his face erupts from curiosity to shock. “No, no, you’re kidding,” he whispers, picking up the comic and examining it. “Is this an original Flash comic? It’s the- it’s the very first one. This is worth at least four thousand dollars. Jean, this is- I can’t-”

“What?” Jean asks, confused. “Do you not like it?”

“No, I love it,” Jeremy stresses, reaching over to grab Jean’s wrist. “I just feel stupid about giving you a seventeen dollar book when you paid who knows how much for this.”

“It’s hardly anything in the terms of what I have,” Jean says after a moment, messing with his book. He examines the front and back cover of the book, and he smiles a bit, winking at Jeremy to make him feel better about whatever situation they’re in. “And besides, this is the best present I’ve ever been given.”

Jeremy laughs a little, and then scoots closer to Jean, encompassing him in a hug. Jean allows the interaction, and then takes in a deep breath, appreciating the comfort of the day before they go see his crazy people.

“You can back out of going to PSU any time you want,” Jean says offhandedly, but he doesn’t want him too. He feels Jeremy laugh into his shoulder more than hears it.

“Not getting rid of me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so idk when the next time i'll update is buuuuut i hope you don't absolutely hate this fic thank youuuu


	8. macabre

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kevin is hugging him, and Jean surprises everyone by letting out a gust of laughter.

It’s cold when they land, but it’s not as cold as Jean is used to. He remembers a distant wind of flurries and flakes, from before his life was ripped away from him to belong to someone else. He misses the freedom of being, sometimes, but never so much that it stings; after all, he barely remembers the life before this one. He also tries not to focus on it so much, for the sake of Jeremy. This is a new life- a new beginning. He still has the scars, both literally and figuratively, from his last life, but they’re starting to dull. Jean doesn’t think they’ll ever stop throbbing, but with Jeremy by his side… well, he’s beginning to realize that he is capable of surviving in a non-life-threatening way.

“South Carolina fucking bites,” Jean tells Jeremy, because it’s true. After experiencing the Californian air so long, he is beginning to miss it. He doesn’t want to say homesick, because it isn’t really home (nowhere is), but it’s an ache that doesn’t hurt so bad. Not like the one for Riko, or the one for Kevin. Not that Kevin and Riko are the same on any platform— no, Kevin couldn’t be less like Riko if he tried. Jean never wants to make the connection between the two of them, but sometimes he cannot help it. They used to be similar, used to mirror each other in every way. But people change, for the better, and, evidently for the worse, too.

Jeremy laughs melodiously. It's like violins, or guitar strums. Both are Jean's favorite instruments. “Well, we’re here for a ten days, so get used to it,” he says with a smile. “And, um,” he scratches the back of his head, and then twirls his finger around a tuft of hair that curls around the back of his neck. Jean can see the start of an array of freckles, but his shirt blocks the rest of the constellation. Jean knows immediately he’s nervous, but he tries not to look too attentive. “What if they don’t like me? I mean, yes, we’ve met, but we’ve never spent an extensive amount of time together, and you know I can get… annoying at times…”

It’s Jean’s turn to laugh. He’s gripping his suitcase and he adjusts his hold on it so he can swing an arm around Jeremy. His captain looks simultaneously pleased, nervous and excited. “Jere, these maniacs are some of your biggest fans. I’m worried I’ll never get you back to California.”

Jeremy relaxes immediately, and then smiles at the statement. He begins to lift his hand to signal a taxi, as well as open his mouth to respond, but Jean pulls his arm off of him and grips his wrist. Every bit of softness he had been feeling was ripped away, fast as lightning.

Andrew was leaning against his expensive car, observing the two of them as Neil and Kevin bickered next to him. Jean felt something kin to an elastic band snap in his chest. He hadn’t known that they were going to pick him up. He just assumed they would leave him and Jeremy to head to headquarters by themselves. Jeremy followed his line of sight, and soon he’s smiling at them in greeting. Andrew wasn’t impressed, to say the least. Or, if he was capable of feeling such things, he didn't show it. Kevin and Neil had yet to notice their arrival. 

“You told me they’d be at PSU waiting for us,” Jeremy comments.

“I expected them to be there,” Jean groans. He doesn’t want to see them yet. He had tried to psych himself up on the plane for being back with the person who knew every inch of him. Kevin first sees Jeremy, looking at him with complete respect falling into his features. Jean is happy that Kevin is such a big fan of his captain, for once, because Jere still is buzzing with anxiety next to him. Kevin catches sight of him, and smiles hesitantly, but looks a little pained. He must be feeling about the same as Jean, the backliner thinks.

At the same time, though, Jean is flooded with happiness. My brother, he thinks, and he smiles as much as he can back. Kevin immediately softens. Jean looks both ways before letting Jeremy pass by him, and then they both cross the street to be greeted by the players. 

“Moreau,” Neil says, shaking his hand, and then gesturing to the trunk. He eyes Jeremy and his eyes soften. Jean understands immediately- Jeremy is perhaps one of the most innocent people a ragtag group like them can be introduced to. And you know it as fast as sound- sure, he isn’t completely perfect, but Jean is willing to argue that he’s pretty damn close. 

Jean takes Jeremy’s bag while he’s distracted with his hello’s, and he sets it into the trunk. Kevin follows him, and Jean is glad for it. His time away from Kevin after their reunion has proven healthy for their relationship; they may still have some very low lows, but Kevin does know him, just as Jean knows Kevin. They are brothers. And Jean did miss having someone that understood his every movement, on and off court. As soon as Jean sets down the cases, Kevin is hugging him, and Jean surprises everyone by letting out a gust of laughter. It’s weak, and barely significant, but it reassures Kevin that Jean feels the same. Jean is quick to wrap his arm around him.

He thinks about the few times they have communicated over the past couple of months, and then strengthens his hold. It’s an accomplishment, really, that he has managed to survive so long without raven influence or ravens following after him. He feels Jere’s eyes on the two of them, but his own flutter shut as he welcomes the embrace.

Kevin backs off first, and then clears his throat, his hands tightening on his shoulders. Jean knows what he means. Missed you.

“We better get in the car,” Kevin says instead. “Renee will have a fit if we don’t get you back in time.”

“Renee? Having a fit?” Neil snorts, climbing into his throne- otherwise known as shotgun. Jeremy is careful as he watches what happens next. Jean doesn't want to leave his side, or Kevins, so he climbs into the middle seat, and takes in a deep breath while he still can. He isn’t sure when he’ll have the time to catch one while he’s surrounded by the most dramatic people in the known universe.

“I saw your game before break,” Kevin comments after a couple of minutes on the road. Andrew shoots a look at Neil, and Neil is quick to smirk in amusement. Jean reads the action, and he knows Kevin does as well. “What do you expect us to talk about, Andrew? Exy is important to the both of us.”

“Leave him be,” Neil says, obviously still annoyed over whatever Kevin and him had bickered about before realizing Jean and Jeremy had made their appearance. Neil pulls down his window, relishing in the breath of air, and then looks Jean in the eye, evaluating for a moment. Jean stares back, mostly because he isn’t sure what the problem is now. “Kevin told me about the knives,” Neil says in french. “You really want them buried?”

“I didn’t go to his funeral,” Jean says in his native tongue, but it burns. He feels Jeremy’s tension grow, and he subconsciously wraps his arm around the back of Jere’s seat, hoping to calm him. “I’d like to say goodbye somehow.”

Neil rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t say anything else. Kevin leans forward and then swallows. “Does Sunshine know about your past?”

“Sunshine?” Jean asks with a bit of amusement hanging off his chin. 

“It’s what the girls call him. I’m trying to keep his name out of it,” Kevin replies, looking aggravated.

“No,” Jean says after a few moments. “I mean, he knows it’s violent and dangerous, but he doesn’t know it all.”

“You don’t trust Sunshine?” Neil offers condescendingly.

“Fuck off,” Jean snaps immediately, and Andrew cuts him a look. Jean reels himself back in. “He’s trustworthy. I just don’t want to overwhelm him.”

Neil smiles at that, and then he looks to Andrew. Jean knows that Andrew is no fluent speaker of his language, but he’s intelligent enough to pick up bits and pieces. He knows that Andrew has caught the gist of it. Jeremy, however, is totally in the dark, and is trying not to look awkward. 

“No more French,” Jean says in English, and Kevin snaps his eyes over. “Jere can’t speak or understand it. It’s not fair to him, and it’s rude.” Jeremy nudges his shoulder against Jean's after a moment, but Jean isn't sure if it's in thanks for because he wants an explanation. Jean chooses to pretend he didn't feel it.

It’s silent a bit longer, and then Andrew looks at him through the mirror. “You use the present I gave you?”

Neil shoots Andrew an arched brow while Kevin immediately grabs his head in anxiety. “Jesus, what did he give you?”

“Yes,” Jean answers, and then he looks and Kevin and smacks his side. “Pray you don’t find out.”

“No, fuck, seriously,” Kevin says, his voice tinted with worry. “What did he give you?”

Jean knows, logically, that there is no hiding it from Kevin, so he rolls his eyes and then juts his finger towards the back of the car. “It’s in my luggage. It’s a knife, Kev. Calm down.”

“You’ve had a knife this whole time?” Jere asks in a tone of surprise. “And what do you mean you’ve used it? When?”

“I keep it on my calf,” Jean smiles to him, and then he winks with his eye that goes unnoticed by the others, shifting back into a comfortable position. “And at that first party we went to.”

“Johnson,” Jeremy says in shock. “Holy shit, Jean. He posted pictures of his stitches on twitter. His cheek. What did he do?”

Jean doesn’t want to be that honest, not in front of the boys. No way he could be that honest sober. But he had threatened Jeremy. That was the night Jean realized that hurting Jeremy was unforgivable. He swallowed, and then shrugged. “Nothing you have to worry about. He isn’t a problem anymore.”

Jeremy looks at him like he’s trying to understand him. Jean regrets ever inviting Jeremy to PSU for a thousand reasons, but mostly because he hates that he will see the real him, just as Kevin does. The bloody, tortured, angry, violent side of him. The one he feels as though has been hidden for so long he hardly exists anymore. But sitting there, now, he’s realizing that that part of him will never leave. It’s the reason he's alive.

 

“Look who’s back!”

Renee opens the door a little wider so he can come in. He ignores Allison’s exclamation, and instead wraps his arms around Renee, giving her small, simple squeeze that she accepts and returns. She's light as air, and her hum of approval makes the mess of nerves settle in his stomach. He already feels better, being in her presence. She’s one of the most comforting people to be surrounded by, and he’s glad she’s there for Jeremy to be around.

“How are you?” she asks when they separate. He smiles to her. 

“Better,” he replies, and he sees Jeremy smile out of the corner of his eye. “How are you?”

“We’re fantastic,” Allison says, wrapping her arm around Renee, and looking him over. “You’re a little close, don’t you think?”

Jean looks at Renee in surprise. He knows that the majority of the foxes believed he and Renee were something closer than friends, and even had a few bets stirring over it, but he can’t believe that Allison still believes he has those feelings. He tries to calm himself, but he just rubs his forehead, and then gives Renee a look. She couldn’t hold back her giggle, and then she intertwined her fingers with Allison’s.

“I’ve told you time and time again that Jean isn’t interested in me,” Renee tells her. She leans forward and kisses her cheek. “Should I say it again?”

Allison softens, and then she smiles to Jean again, a little faker than before. “Missed having you around, pup.”

Jean doesn’t take offense to the nickname, and he sits down so Jeremy will as well. The girls follow in suit. Pup was something a few of the foxes called him, since he looked like a “kicked puppy” once he started moving around again, after so long either wallowing in self pity or sunken depression. Instead of arguing or flinching, he levels her with a glare and raises an eyebrow. 

“Can’t say the same, bitch,” he replies, and then he tugs Jeremy forward from his elbow. Before he has time to open him mouth, Allison cuts him off.

“Where the fuck are my manners?” she says, rolling her eyes, and then shakes Jeremy’s hand. “Hey, Sunshine. Welcome to Fox Territory.”

“Happy to be here,” he tells her, shaking her hand and smiling his charming smile. He looks to Jean. “Sunshine?”

“It’s your nickname,” Jean tells him, and then he looks to Renee. “Kevin mentioned that you weren’t staying long so I wanted to hurry and see you.”

“Yeah,” Allison answers for her. “Us, Matt and Dan are taking a couples vacation. Which we both need and deserve. Free of the Monsters. We leave tomorrow.”

“Fun,” Jeremy says. Jean smirks at his refusal to ask about the monsters nickname; perhaps it's more obvious which of the foxes fall into that category that Jean originally thought. “Where to?”

“It’s a Disney cruise,” Renee answers. “Since Dan and I have never been exposed to anything Disney, Matt and Allison want us to see what it's like, and instead of going to the park, we've chosen isolation on a boat.”

“Have you, pup?” Allison asks, genuine curiosity etched in her voice. "Been to Disney?" Renee shoots her a look.

“Sure,” Jean tells her. “Everybody at the nest loved to take vacations after we poured our sweat and blood on the court for hours on end. It was a real relaxer. Especially Disney! The Ravens knew every lyric to every song, since we had Disney movie marathons,” he smirks.

Allison rolls her eyes, but she looks embarrassed. “Obviously I didn’t think about it. Suck a dick.”

“Did I just hear you say Disney?” Nicky asked, exiting a back room. Jean doesn’t know where he’s coming from, or why he’s there, but he’s moving to get up and leave the room. “Hey, hey, hey, sweetie! I know you missed me!”

Jean doesn’t hug back when Nicky engulfs him, but he isn’t really mad. He settles back down on the couch and shoots everyone an annoyed look. Jeremy smiles at the picture.

“And look who you’ve got here,” Nicky says, looking Jeremy over like a snack. “Jeremy Knox. Wow, you are something to see.”

“Thanks,” Jeremy answers, with a small smile, taking Nicky by the hand. “Good to meet you, Nicky.”

Nicky leans over, collects Jean’s face in his hands to hold like a precious treasure, and then whispers in his ear, breathy and hot. “Please tell me this boy is gay as fuck.”

Jean rips his hands off his face and then shoves them into his own chest. “Christ, you’re a pest. Go bury your grave elsewhere.”

Nicky smirks and then gives them each a wink before disappearing. “See you both at Eden’s Twilight tonight!” he yells before slamming the front door shut behind him.

Jean takes a second to process the information before glowering. He turns to Renee and Allison but they look just as concerned as he feels. “Both?” Allison echoes. “Wait, wait, wait. The monster is taking Sunshine there?”

“Hell fucking no,” Jean spits, and then he gets up from his spot, throbbing from the discomfort that has knitted itself around his heart and been embedded in his chest.

 

Andrew is staring at him with disinterest and slight irritation- it’s his usual look. Jean wishes he could say he’s surprised, or angered by it, but for the while he has known Andrew, he feels nothing but uncertainty. The man is similar to a bomb that could go off at any time, but also a sturdy ruin that will never change. Jean isn’t sure he’ll ever be comfortable with him. He keeps trying to make his point; Andrew, as much as he reminds Jean of Riko at times, is no Riko. Jean feels little fear towards him compared to the weight he felt with his former captain.

“Do you even hear me, Minyard? Jeremy is not coming with us. Okay?”

He can feel Jeremy behind him. Jean is almost certain he’s offended.

“Can you lower your voice?” Kevin asks, massaging his head. Jean looks at him strangely, and then gestures both his hands toward him.

“You’re fucking hungover? Jesus, Kev, how often do you drink?”

“He’s an alcoholic,” Neil sighs, and then he settles in next to Andrew, hairs away from touching. He evaluates Jean and then he levels him with the steel eye he’s able to call forth. It's the picture of dominance. Jean remembers that even though Neil is no longer Nathaniel, that piece of him is able reappear in a blink. He is intimidating, but also strangely ethereal. He's always been a sight to see, with his never-fading burns and scars. “Also, I would listen to him.” It isn't a suggestion, but a commandment from the Butcher's son. Jean wishes he didn't feel something yank him back in his gut, but he knows he should listen to it.

“Jean,” Jeremy interjects, and Jean closes his eyes at the unease that peaked its way through his voice. “If you’re going there, I want to go there, too. Why do you have a problem with me going with you?”

Jean groans. “It isn’t you,” he tells him with all the sincerity he feels. “It isn't that. It’s them,” he gestures to the people in the room. “I don’t want you exposed to this.”

Nicky lets an “aw” escape his lips, and Jean shoots him a piercing glower, one fierce enough to feel like a bullet. Nicky dropped it and minded the window. Jean turns back to Andrew, and watches as the blonde gestures towards his calf.

“Your captain is coming with us. You have your knife. You’re allowed to use it.”

“The hell he is,” Kevin says immediately. “Do you know what Ichirou would do if we did something that ruined our chances of making court? We would-”

“Kevin,” Jean snaps. Kevin falls silent, eyeing Jeremy and then wincing.

It’s an odd moment, but Jean evaluates what was just said. He knows they’re right. If something went wrong and Jean couldn’t make court— he would be a dead man. He forgot how his life truly did revolve around exy for a split moment. He shoots Jeremy a look and then looks back to Andrew. He swallows.

He understands why he wants Jeremy there, in that moment. He isn’t sure why it didn’t come to him sooner, but now it has. Andrew knows that with enough to drink, or if he is drugged, Jeremy will see him, flesh and soul. He will see how truly fucked up and hopeless Jean is. It’s a test for him, to see how trustworthy the Trojan is. Jean would never give up these secrets and torments willingly. It makes sense, but it doesn’t make him any less uncomfortable. 

“You’re going to drug me.”

It isn’t a question, but it is very open-ended. Andrew squints and then shrugs.

“Unless you want to bare your secrets sober.”

Jean knows it’s impossible. He swallows and then looks at the floor.

“Andrew,” Kevin whispers. “You can’t do this.”

“Fuck off,” Jean tells Kevin, but it’s not heated. Kevin stares at him, and then Jean nods to Andrew. “Don’t tell me when you do it.”

He takes Jeremy by the arm and then pulls him after him. He wants out of the room, but he can also feel how much is sitting on his captain's tongue. Jeremy is looking as out of place as Jean imagined he would with the foxes. He’s also looking at Jean with curiosity and displeasure. “Jean,” he begins as soon as the door is shut behind him, and it's raw and mad, “you’re going to let him drug you? Think of all the progress you’ve made. You think him drugging you is going to help with your mental state? What is he testing you for? I don’t under-”

“It’s not about me,” Jean tells him after a moment. Jeremy stops dead in his tracks, and Jean looks over the hallway, and then at Jeremy. Jeremy is looking at him with pure eyes, the ones that light up every time he comes into sight.

Jean isn’t stupid. He knows that Jeremy cares for him in a way that is set apart from the way he cares for other people. Jean knows that he’s… important to his captain. He isn’t sure of the context, but after spending time with Jeremy and his family, and feeling Jeremy’s unwavering presence and concern— it’s impossible to not see how he cares for Jean. How he feels that his terrible life is now his own responsibility. Jean thinks it’s noble, but unnecessary. He will do as Andrew wishes for several reasons; the first being, it’s stupid and pointless to disagree with the Minyard twin. Secondly, he has wanted to tell Jeremy his crippling past without feeling it all over again. If he’s drugged, no chance he’ll remember spewing it all out. He hates to burden Jeremy with it all, but he knows it’s inevitable. It’s important for Jeremy to know the position he’s in because of Jean. 

Once a Raven, always a Raven. 

 

They’ve been there for two hours. Jean feels electricity on every atom. He feels his adrenaline and nerves, as if they were physical beings, but he feels as though he is doing a good enough job at hiding the intensity of it. He does know he has broke out into a cold-turned-hot-sweat. It’s been nothing but partying, and Jean has drank some things already, alcoholic and not, but none of them have been spiked by Andrew or the barkeep. He did ask to be surprised, so perhaps it’s his own fault. He does know it’s closing in, though. Time is stretching out into eternity, and he's beginning to wish he could just get it over with in a blink.

Jeremy is just as high strung as Jean is, if not more so. He keeps wrapping his hand around Jean's wrist and shoulder, telling him that they can call a cab, or Matt, or just leave. He is looking at Andrew with confusion and is trying to keep his distance from him. Jean is flattered, but this isn’t really for Andrew. Truly- this is for Jean, Kevin and, most importantly to Andrew, Neil. Jean’s life is distant from the other two, in the geographical sense, but they are all linked, and if one falls short, the other two must grab them from the pits of hell and pull them up. Survival used to be singular, but now it’s vital that they stick together. Jean is just beginning to understand it.

Jere and him are tucked away in some corner, still in the sight of the others. Jeremy asked for some time alone, possibly trying to talk Jean off of this ledge, but then they just chose to stay with each other rather than the others. It’s sort of sweet, but Jean resents himself for thinking so. He looks at Jeremy and watches him make his impassioned speech, but Jean doesn’t hear a word he says. He’s focused on the way his eye is slightly twitching, either because he's tired, or because he's nervous; how his eyebrows are dipped down the middle from his worry or his upset; how his face looks good with even a frown.

Nothing is ever out of place on the man. 

A waiter sets a drink down. Jeremy stops in the middle of whatever he was babbling about and stares at the drink. Jean grabs it before the idea to take it out of reach pops up in Jeremy’s head. Jean turns to Andrew, and stares at him as he downs the drink. Once the last drop disappears down his throat, Andrew looks away. He seems to be signaling the others. Jean turns back to Jeremy, who looks angry.

“I don’t understand what is happening,” Jeremy tells him.

“You’ll get it,” Jean says, his voice raspy from lack of speaking, as well as burning from the alcohol. “Jere,” he starts, “whatever happens, um,” he shrugs vaguely. “I mean, whatever you hear… don’t let it change things too much.”

“Nothing is going to change this,” Jeremy says, his hand resting on Jean’s wrist. His grip tightens on his clothing. Jean blinks back the fuzziness he feels. He hadn’t expected it to work so quickly.

“Kiss me,” Jean whispers suddenly. He isn’t sure why, but he wants him to. He’s beginning to feel the drugs, but Jere is so far away from his own truth. This is the only time that they could be intimate and it truly mean something without too much baggage. Jean is about to become a thing again. Just like he was with Riko. Too broken to truly be loved.

He feels woozy, and he tries not to feel even sicker when Jeremy gives a long look. Jean can’t decipher what exactly he’s feeling, and Jean isn’t sure if it’s because of the drugs or because Jeremy is actually doing a good enough job to keep it hidden. Jean feels stupid, suddenly, like a complete dick. Kiss me? He feels a pathetic laugh bubble out, but he keeps eye contact with Jeremy while he still can remember to focus. He shakes his head a couple of times to try and gain awareness.

He already regrets this. Every part of it.

“No,” Jeremy tells him. It's said a thousand different ways, but each are also add up to the same thing: heart breaking.

Jean nods once, fast, swift, pushing down the crushing feelings that are beginning to overwhelm him. "Except maybe that," he says, hoping to drag amusement back into the dying conversation. Jeremy doesn't laugh, and Jean doesn't try to. Maybe the conversation wasn't dying, Jean thinks. Maybe it was dead. He grips the table in fear of falling over. Kevin is by him in a moment, his arm hooking around his waist.

He doesn’t remember getting outside, but he sees the car, and soon they’re all back inside, crammed like sardines. It appears a bit more claustrophobic when you can’t focus on the difference in space. He feels it getting blacker, he feels his mouth falling open, he feels the eyes on him, whether bored or concerned, it doesn’t matter. Most importantly, though, he feels Jeremy’s hand gripping his own, their fingers intertwined.

The last thing he remembers is letting out a laugh that turns into a wrecking sob, destroying his chest and his cool. Then everything loses control and disappears from memory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'll try and post again soon!!! i'm swamped with stuff irl, like work and shit, but i am commited to finishing this lmao. i hope you like it! thanks for the comments and the kudos, etc! v sweet, v sweet. also this chapter is shorter than a lot of the others- mostly bc of the dialogue i think! anywho, i'll post a longer chapter next time. BUT this chap is v important to me. it's all over the place mostly bc it's from jeans perspective and HE feels all over the place. its like two worlds colliding for him rn. okay.. bye!!


	9. thought

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean looks at his brother, and is pleased by how soft and considering he looks.

Jean isn’t sure when he realizes that he’s awake, but it happens like he’s falling. He’s letting out a gasp of fear from his unknown surroundings, and he groans out something that sounds like a “no” moving his wrists just to make sure they aren’t tied down to anything. In his struggle to wake up, he falls to the ground, but he isn’t alone for much longer.

Even though he isn’t 100% sure who the owner of the hands is, he calms beneath them, lets them push into his chest. The fingers are skinny, but the palms are firm, and he does his best to control whatever storm was brewing beneath his ribs. He collects his breath, and then he feels nothing but pain as he grips his forehead. It’s throbbing like it has been pelted by rocks, and he lets out a shaky sigh in the hopes of relieving built-up tension.

“Sh,” someone soothes, running their hands through his hair, and he is lulled into a bout of security. Slowly, he opens his eyes and readjusts to the fierceness of the light. Renee is sitting by his side, one of her hands wrapped around his bicep and the other at the nape of his neck, cradling his head. “Breathe.”

He does what she says without a second thought. Her smile to him is serene, and he likes the warmth that spreads through his chest. “Renee,” he releases, “I’ve fucked up.”

“Not surprising,” she responds, but her smile has gotten a little wider, even though it’s tinged with a bit of empathy. “What happened last night? And why do you have a black eye?”

“I have a black eye?” he reaches for his face and carefully prods the place in question.

“Careful,” she sighs, pulling his hand away from his face. She brings her knees to her chest and leans forward. “Tell me what happened. Maybe I can help you sort this out.”

“I-I asked Andrew to drug me.” And even though her face doesn’t change drastically, Jean knows Renee well enough to see that she isn’t too thrilled about what she is hearing. “That part I don’t regret- not yet, at least, but I do regret something pretty big from last night. You know, the part I fucked up.”

“Of course,” she slightly jokes. “And which part is that?”

“I asked Jeremy to kiss me.”

It’s silent as he begins to accept this truth, and he twiddles with his fingers a little bit in worry and stress. He can’t believe that that’s the last little bit he remembers from the night before, but he feels like he’s been ripped open. He’s never felt so vulnerable in his life, which is saying something, considering how many times he’s been forced into the open with no guards up, no time to prepare. He remembers, distantly, the questions about Riko and his “suicide.”

“I have to tell you something,” Renee whispers, pulling him from his thoughts, and then he looks at her. She looks worried, and she holds his shoulder. “Jeremy left this morning. He wanted to get back to California.”

“What?” Jean chokes out. Out of every way for Jeremy to react, he didn’t see that coming. The pain of him being gone comes only a moment after he’s processed all that Renee has said, but Jean is a master of pain. At times, he struggles to control how he feels, but in that moment, he is able to put the pain on a leash and pull it down to where all the other pain is festering. Mountains upon mountains of it, but this is perhaps the purest pain he has ever felt, with no undertones of anger or rage. 

“He wanted me to tell you to call him, when you’re able to. I don’t think he expected you to be back on your feet so soon,” she finishes.

“Your trip,” he interrupts. He stares at her in the dawn of his realization, but she’s already shrugging him off. “Renee, please tell me you didn’t blow off your trip because I’m a dumbass-”

“Like Allison would let me,” Renee smiled to herself. “We’re leaving in three hours.” It was silent between them for a moment, but Jean could feel how Renee was pondering. 

“You want to ask me something,” Jean nudges her knee with his own. “I’m waiting.”

She squinted at him. “You know, my relationship with the foxes is very different from my relationship with you. There’s an air of authenticity that I have with you that is very similar to what I have with my teammates, though.”

He remains silent, eyeing her. 

“It’s a rarity for me to find people I’m comfortable around,” she confesses. “Allison is my only exception. I’m able to be myself to the fullest, but it doesn’t feel like me because I’m-…”

“Happy?”

When he first thought about interrupting her, he wasn’t sure what the point was, but when he makes it real, pulling the word from his mouth like tar off a road, he remembers a hundred things. He remembers pouring the drinks that Jeremy made for him down the sink, he remembers how Jeremy dances around the apartment like a hooligan, he remembers when his breath caught at Jeans laugh, that day in the gym that felt like centuries ago. He remembers Jeremy and his palms, pressed together, fitting like puzzle pieces. He remembers how easy the hard things are for Jeremy, like math and science. His floppy hair, and every time he’s bitten his own lip. 

“Are you thinking what I think you’re thinking?” Renee whispers to him.

“What’s your point?” he asks past the hurt in his throat. His eyes feel blurry and he rubs over them, wincing when he presses down on his hurt eye. 

“My point is this: you are so happy there, in California. You were beginning to find your place, your knit. A family. Like I’ve found here. So, why come back? Closure for Riko? Andrew told me about those stupid knives, and I’ve been meaning to bring it up with you.”

“Yeah,” Jean says once he realizes that Renee has asked him a question. “For Riko. Kind of.”

“What’s the other part?” Renee cups her cheeks, watching him. “Because I know you. There’s something else. Something bigger. Maybe you haven’t even admitted this part to yourself yet, but I think you should.”

Another onslaught of memories attacks him, and these are more painful than he would care to admit. Kevin and Jean as children, whispering back and forth in French. Kevin gripping his shoulders in excitement, whether from an exy play they made or the team they would watch made. Kevin burying Jeans head in his neck, hugging the life out of him after Kevin and Riko returned from a trip they had been allowed to go to, but Jean had not. Kevin, Kevin, Kevin.

“He’s my brother,” Jean tells her.

“Kevin,” Renee realizes, but then she looks confused. “You have to know that even space apart couldn’t change how Kevin feels about you. He was devastated when you had to leave. But he knew what was good for you, just like you do.”

“I don’t like being away from him,” he says, and he isn’t sure if he’s talking about Jeremy or Kevin now.

“I know,” she reaches out, and he watches as her hand wraps around his. “But,” she stresses, “and this isn’t because I don’t want to see you, because I do… but you don’t belong here. You don’t fit in with Andrew, or Neil, or Dan, even. You belong with the Trojans. You belong with Jeremy.”

“But Kevin is-” he’s struggling again, pulling at strings.

“You don’t have to be without him,” she says, smiling a little. “But you need to balance your life now and your past life. You can’t be both. You have to pick. And seeing Kevin is good, and a must, but only when you’re not in a place to be compromised by some of the more dramatic people in our life. And trust me, you’re not nearly as dramatic as them,” she winks, smiling a little bit at her joke. He ends up smiling too, before it drops. “Something else?” she asks.

“I don’t think I deserve it,” he says as fast as he can. Before she can respond, he barrels on. “This new person I am is one that smiles— sometimes. And eats ice cream. And actually pays attention to how other players are feeling on and off the court. I never thought I would care about Alvarez. I-I don’t think I deserve to be that person.”

“Jean,” she says, her voice different than the Renee he’s used to conversing with. He looks her in the eyes, and she looks like someone long gone, but clearly present. “There is no person in the world that deserves it more than you.”

“But does Jeremy?” he can’t help but ask. “Does Jeremy-”

“Don’t even finish that sentence,” she says, smiling softly. She looks deep in thought, trying to figure out what to say. “Do I deserve Allison?” 

“Yes,” he spits out, looking at her oddly. “But, that’s very different from-”

“Not at all,” she says. “No different.”

 

Saying goodbye to Renee is harder than he had been expecting it to be, he thinks while watching them all get packed up into a car. Nicky is climbing in the front seat, and even though he’s only dropping the four of them off, he looks pretty thrilled to be going along. Perhaps he is sick of being around the Monsters- Jean knows he is. He’s hugging Renee tight, and she kisses his cheek lightly. “When I have signal I’ll be calling,” she promises. “Answer?”

“Only for you,” he says with a tilt in his voice that seems to only come out around her. He looks over her shoulder at Allison eyeing the two of them. He sizes her up as she approaches.

“Do you have any sense of personal space?” she bites.

“Allison,” Renee says, rolling her eyes, but it’s lovingly and she’s already leaving the two of them alone. Allison is looking him over, and she finally lets out a dramatic, annoyed sigh. “I’m sorry I made you feel like a kicked puppy... Puppy.”

He smirks. “You have never made me feel anything besides annoyed, you stuck up bitch.”

“Precious,” she growls, but there’s a glint sparked in her eyes. “I best be going. Don’t want to keep my girl waiting. Emphasis on the my, by the way. Not yours. Just in case that needed to be clear.”

He laughs, but he stops when he feels her hugging him too. He’s even more surprised when she whispers in his ear. 

“Thank you for being a friend she needs.”

She, too, pecks his cheek, but she’s gone before he can say anything at all. He straightens his shoulders, and sees Renee in the car, the window rolled up. She looks adorable, all cozied up in the back seat, and when she catches him looking, she gives him a tiny wave and smile before the car rolls away. 

Neil is beside him in the next moment, watching the car drive away. Jean can sense the tension in the others shoulders, and tries to relieve his own. “It’s going to be hard, isn’t it?” he says.

“What?” Neil asks.

“Being away from Boyd.”

He doesn’t know why he finds Neils snort amusing, but he smirks at the noise, and turns back to him. Neil is eyeing him and then points to his eye. “Sorry.”

“This was you?” He isn’t sure why he’s surprised. He knows Neil is a fighter, but out of everyone he had been with, Neil was near the bottom of the list he had made to punch him in the face.

“No, it was Andrew. But it was sort of in my honor. You- you kept calling me Nathaniel. I think it bothered him more than it did me.”

Jean knows that that’s a lie, and feels a punch to his gut. “I’m sorry.”

“No worries. It knocked you out, but I think you were already on the verge of losing consciousness.” He waits for a moment, his hands stuffed in his pockets. “I’m sorry about Jeremy leaving.”

Jean chooses not to reply. He walks away instead.

 

The phone rings several times. Jean is about to shut it, reeling in just how pathetically dumb he feels. He wants to wallow in his own self pity, and regret every decision he’s ever made. 

“Hello?” Jeremy answers. “Jean?”

“Jere,” Jean chokes out, and then falls silent. 

He stands there, in Kevins' room. He’s silent as he waits for Jeremy to say something. Instead of focusing on the swell of-of feeling, so abnormal to him, rise in his chest, he closes his eyes and hears Jere breathe. He can almost see him, which surprises him. It doesn’t matter where Jeremy is at specifically, he knows that the boy is messing with the hair that hangs over his forehead, as he does when he’s nervous. The one that's distinctively more curly than the others.

“How was your flight?”

“Is your eye okay?”

Jean smiles to himself, but it’s distant and not his usual… “Jeremy smile”, when they both speak at the same time. 

“My eye is fine.”

“My flight was okay, too.”

More silence drowns them, and Jean sits on the edge of Kevins’ bed. 

“I’m sorry,” Jeremy finally breaks it. “I didn’t- I’m not mad at you. But you said a lot last night, and it wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle. I need you to know that. I also need you to know that I don’t think you’re broken, or messed up.”

“I’m just not who you thought I was,” Jean offers.

“No, no. I’ve always known who you are, and that’s never going to change.”

Jean feels the pain he had buried birth something, and he grips the phone so tightly that he’s sure his fingers are purple. 

“Jean, I left because there is obviously a lot of shit you have to figure out and get through. And I’m not supposed to be there for those things. I’m with you, obviously. I support you. But these are the things you have to do… without me. Things I can’t appreciate or understand. Like the knives. I don’t understand them, and I never will. I get the weight that they are on your back, but I- that’s not my place. But you're with people who can.”

Jean is still silent.

“I want to say something else, too.”

“Okay,” Jean whispers.

“You shouldn’t have done that, Jean,” Jeremy says, but his voice it soft. “What you did- I know you’re still learning. And I can’t imagine how hard it would be to go through everything you have. If I could, I would go back in time and stop it from happening at all. I-I can’t tell you how much I hate what happened to you. But I know you do, too. I also know it’s complicated. You told me that forever ago. But it’s not so complicated that you couldn’t wait until Sober You was ready to tell me. Seeing you drugged like that, it-it… it didn’t sit well with me.”

“I know,” Jean says once Jeremy has fallen silent. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t,” Jeremy responds. “I don’t want you to apologize for anything. I just want you to know how I feel. And I’d like to know how you feel, too.”

“I feel like I miss you,” Jean says before he can comprehend what he’s saying. “And the girls,” he rushes out.

Jeremy is quiet on the other end for a moment.

“We… we miss you, too.”

 

Realizing Jeremy is really gone is a monster. He barrels through his mind, into the pain he’s hidden away, and soon enough, he finds himself all alone. He doesn’t feel so much sadness as he does absolute anger, now. Not at Jeremy- never Jeremy.

Isn’t this just how things would go? The second he begins to feel comfortable around him, the moment he doesn’t flinch at the slightest of touches, when he actually begins to enjoy another palm pressed against his own—

Fuck. 

Jean hates himself, and all he can think about is Riko and his hot breath on his neck, and Jean can’t help it. He starts hitting his head, even though it is still throbbing from the previous night. He’s praying that the flashing images that he has long repressed will shuffle back into the dark crevices of his mind. He hears his own whimpers from one of the worser nights, feels the tightness around his wrists, smells the blood. He grips his hair.

“Kiss me,” he heard Riko say.

“No,” Jean had softly whispered.

He feels the long dead sting of the sharpness of Rikos' nails that had buried themselves into his chest.

“Fuck,” Jean sobs out. He doesn’t so much wish to die as he wishes he never existed in the first place.

 

Kevin knocks at the door. Jean knows that Kevin should have come back into his room hours ago, but for some reason has stayed away. Even though Jean has been laying awake for awhile, he pretends to wake. Kevin enters without waiting for the go ahead, much like Jean expected him to, and looks at Jean. “Are you okay?”

Maybe it’s the fact that it’s such a simple question, or the fact that it’s Kevin, but suddenly he feels like he’s spiraling and he can’t catch a break. His fingers slip through the side of his head, and he can’t seem to find any oxygen.

“Hey,” Kevin whispers, placing himself beside him. “Breathe? Okay? Just breathe.”

“Kevin,” Jean says in a low voice, but it doesn’t hold the heat it normally does. He has pushed himself against the side of the doors entrance, so Kevin is pushed against the door. Jean has his legs bundled up against his chest, like Renee did before. His eyes are shut, and he can’t help but remember the knives that poured down his chest, and Riko’s tongue on his skin. He isn’t sure which was sharper. “I think I’m crazy.”

“You’re not,” Kevin tells him, moving in front of him. He reluctantly reaches out and grips Jeans knees. Kevin seems to be trying to gain the confidence to say something, so Jean keeps his snarky comments to himself. “Do you remember when we were kids? Before everything got too fucked up? We would stay up late, do you remember? Me, you, Riko… we would tell each other our dreams. You always dreamed about the ocean, do you remember?”

Jean mutely nods, and doesn’t tell him that he still does.

“I always lied,” Kevin tells him. “The truth is, I had terrible nightmares when I was younger. I still do. I used to wet the bed. I had to clean it myself, I was scared that-that-that he would see it, you know, and get angry with me,” he rushes. Jean knows he isn’t talking about Riko. “They were always about my mother dying then, though. My mother,” he says once more, repeating. He shakes his head. “Anyways, I thought I was losing my mind. Every night I would wake up after seeing some grotesque vivid picture in my brain of my mother, soaking in my own piss, or something. Slowly, though, it did get easier. And I know that everything you’ve been through is so much more traumatic than my mothers death, and I know you think you’re hearing bullshit every time someone says it, but it does get better. In fact, I think it already did, you just… you just had to come back here. It’s the same way with me and alcohol. I need the drinks. Because I still get nightmares. You know? In dreams and in real life.”

Jean stares at him, and nods after a moment of thought. “I can’t just leave here and never come back. This is where you are.”

Kevin looks at him in awe for a moment, and then laughs a little. “Jean, leaving here doesn’t mean we will never be reconnected. But honestly, this atmosphere and environment isn’t the one you need to heal in. Take it from me. Only people like Neil could find solace or something in a place like this. And he’s the biggest piece of work on the planet.”

Jean lets out a chuckle, and lets his body deflate.

“Lets talk about Jeremy,” Kevin says, his voice a little more nervous than he’s obviously trying to act.

“No,” Jean replies.

“Jean, we just had an actual breakthrough for the first time ever. Lets keep it going-”

“You’ll hate me,” Jean interrupts.

“I already do, you ugly fuck,” Kevin persists.

“I think I like Jeremy,” Jean tells him. “In a way that reminds me of Riko.”

Kevin sits there like he’s trying to figure it out and also be supportive. “You mean… you want to torture him?”

“No, I just-” Jean huffs. “Sometimes I wish I could just always be with him. Like how Riko wanted me to be, you know, always right there. Except, I really don’t want to be like Riko. I don’t want to-”

“Slow down,” Kevin says. “Your breathing is getting hectic.”

“Explain this to me,” Jean finally pleads.

Kevin rolls his eyes and looks around the room, and then looks at Jean like he’s a newborn baby. “You have a crush on your captain. That isn’t like Riko. Riko was psychotic and needed the control over you, not because he genuinely wanted you there. You on the other hand… I don’t know what you would do with control if anybody ever handed you the reigns, honestly.”

“But I don’t want to,” he struggles, and then he looks at Kevin like he’s in physical pain. “I don’t want to do some of the things that I did with Riko. Things I think I’m supposed to-”

“You aren’t supposed to do anything,” Kevin tells him strongly. “And it’s normal that you don’t want to.” Jean looks at his brother, and is pleased by how soft and considering he looks. “You don’t have to have sex with him. Or anybody. Having a crush isn’t a signed agreement, or going to force you to go that far. You never have to have sex again, if you don’t want to,” Kevin tells him.

“You don't think it’s wrong that I—- whatever?”

Kevin shakes his head. “You know I don’t like teammates dating, but I’m beginning to learn stuff, you know. Like how you’re more important than the game,” he says softly, quick and low. “Nicky may not be, but you certainly are.”

Jean wants to tell him that he’s more important the game, too, but he’s suddenly feeling defensive about their entire conversation. He shakes it away though, because this is Kevin, and Kevin is the only person on the planet that really knows him well.

“I can’t believe he left,” Jean says.

“He’s not really gone,” Kevin says, and Jean starts. “Okay, wait, yes, he is gone to California. But what I mean is, that doesn’t mean anything. He probably just wants to give you space, or something, right? You know? You said a lot, and even this morning you were standoffish-”

“I was hungover, you bitch-”

“It’s probably good that Jeremy didn’t see that. It isn’t so bad. You’ll get back to California soon, and it’ll all be okay, again. I’m sure of it.”

 

It’s late, and cold. Jean is bundled up in a jacket, leaning against the hood of Andrews car, Kevin by his side. Andrew is standing somewhere behind Neil, who is digging a hole rather efficiently. Jean wonders how many holes he has had to dig in his life, how many dead bodies he has in his closet. He wonders if Kevin is thinking the same thing, or if he knows.

Jean watches as every bit of dust that Neil pulls from the ground is deposited right next to the hole, and Jean feels something in his chest detach. He saw pictures from Rikos funeral. It was all very expensive, and there were hundreds of people in attendance. All the Ravens who were on the team, fans, and even those higher up in the mess that was their life. Jean didn’t know what his headstone looked like, but he had read about it. “Here likes Riko Moriyama, a beloved player and friend.” 

Riko always was a player before he was anything else. Jean clutches the box in his hand tightly.

Beneath all the bad memories, there are the good ones. The ones of Riko rough housing with them instead of watching them do it to each other out of enjoyment. His thirst for blood hadn’t existed yet, or at least it wasn’t as overwhelming as when he got older.

Jean remembers the first time Riko got a knife. It wasn’t used against him, at first. It was against someone long forgotten. At that time, Jean hadn’t been worried about the implications. He thought, Riko will never hurt me. Riko loves me. It had to be true, Jean thinks, that at some point in the long gone past, that he really had loved him at some point.

Jean wishes that there were only the bad times. Because the good times is what makes it all so hard. Hating Riko isn’t black and white. It’s all so gray. A large part of Jean wishes he had been there to see Riko murdered, is glad he is dead every day. But there’s another equally large part of him that feels the heartbreaking pain with the moment he remembers Rikos' smile. The moment he realizes that the same Riko that had been murdered was the same one he used to play chase with. 

The problem is this, he realizes. People hear abusive friendships, and they don’t assume that it can be just as bad as other types of abuse. In fact, they probably think it’s easier to walk away from. Jean knows that’s wrong. Even if Jean hadn’t been owned by them, he wouldn’t have been able to walk away. Jean wasn’t Riko’s friend at the end, but Jean remembers a time when they were children and they were. When Riko had been so full, and not so devastatingly broken that he was drawn to break others. As he grew older, he shifted, adapted with his lot in life. Began to realize that he had a father who didn’t love him, a brother that saw him as extra. He had only exy, but even that was for those who had been sold, like Jean. The debts. The burdens. Jean remembers the moment he saw it click with Riko. Riko had looked around at where he was, and saw that he really was just like all of them. That was first time Jean had ever been beat senseless by him.

And that night, Jean had been the one to apologize to him. 

Neil stopped digging and turned to Jean, waiting for him to make his move.

Jean waited for a second and then walked up to the hole. It looked like it could hold a small coffin, and perhaps Neil hadn’t even realized he had dug it that way. He must be thinking of the horrors he went through at the Nest- Jean remembers cleaning him up and watching after him when he had been subject to these knives, the ones his fingers are clutching. Jean had been pleased, but hated himself for it. For a moment, he wasn’t the sole subject of Riko’s anger and rage. He had time to collect his breath before the inevitable storm hit. And- it really had. 

Jean hadn’t been the only thing to break that night. Something between Riko and him changed. Or perhaps it was just Jean who noticed. Riko, the little boy he had been, the friend, the confidant. He was gone, and replaced by something unrecognizable that Jean couldn’t be around anymore. He wouldn’t have just lost his mind, but he had seen what happened with Kevin. He would lose his talent, and all he had was exy. He would lose his life. He was the debt.

He closed his eyes, collected his thoughts, his feelings, and dropped the knives into the hole. That detachment had become something final, and it broke then, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so........  
> it's been a minute. i'm so sorry. i know this is a terrible excuse but i have been through some shit. i haven't had much time to update, and when i did have the time, i didn't have the motivation. hopefully this is a good enough chapter.  
> this story is kind of personal to me, because i really relate to jean. that's one reason i wanted to write a fic in the first place. and even though a large portion of this fic is about jean and jeremy, another very vital part is his relationship with kevin. i haven't been through the same circumstances as jean but i do know the betrayal of friendship in the way he does with riko. and the relationship with kevin is important because i have a kevin, too. i hope that makes as much sense written as it did in my head?  
> anyways, i do want to update again soon, but things are still very much crazy. you can come see me at minyardly on tumblr thooooo...... if you want....... idk.  
> also. thank you all so much for your comments and kudos. if i didn't have terrible anxiety i would respond to all of you, and tell you how much i love and appreciate you. hopefully this will do.


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